Je Suis Desole
by sleepingdead
Summary: Yuki has decided to leave Shuichi for good. Now Shuichi is about to reach the breaking point, and Hiro takes it upon himself to help. YxS, HxS Complete
1. Note

Prologue 

Yuki Eiri set down the magazine and rubbed his weary eyes as he gently settled deeper into his bed.  His gaze wandered to the strands of glistening pink hair, still slightly damp from a recent shower, as they moved back and forth rhythmically in line with their possessor's restful breath.  Eiri allowed his lips to form a hint of a smile as he slid his arm under his sleeping lover's head and absently began to play with the soft hair lying limply across the pillow.  The smile quickly faded into a frown, though, when Eiri remembered his doings of the past few days.  Everything was so perfect with Shuichi, Eiri decided, though as he did so, a hint of dread poured through his body.

Shuichi was the most important thing to him then.  The little brat had meddled his way into Eiri's life without a second thought of consequences, disrupting the entire structure and routine that he had grown so used to.  Though he would never admit it, Eiri had welcomed the distraction; when Shuichi came, Eiri had begun to realize how uneventful and boring his life had been.  Eiri liked the chaos that Shuichi had unintentionally brought with him; he fell in love with it, fell in love with the kick it gave to his life, and in turn he fell in love with the very thing that brought it upon him in an attempt to make that kick remain.  And yet, now, Eiri realized sadly, he was becoming used to Shuichi.  He was starting to grow accustomed to the boy's antics, which, after the amount of time he had spent with him, he realized were actually not unpredictable, but rather just different.  When he had first come into his life, Shuichi had provided an escape from the dull schedule of things.  Now, however, that very escape had succumbed to the power of the routine, and it was no longer an escape.

Just thinking about it, Eiri realized that as he gazed at the placid face of his lover, the unconventional beauty that he had always secretly admired seemed to fade because it once again was something normal in the life of Yuki Eiri.  Briefly he thought back to a time several years ago when he had paid a visit to his brother-in-law, who had seemed to be strangely distant at that time.  Seeing Tohma working mindlessly on an almost comically large stack of paperwork had stirred a cynical mood in Eiri, and of course he took the chance to insult Tohma's lifestyle immediately.  He had been rather unpleasantly surprised when Tohma donned a smile that went no farther than his lips and agreed to his snide comments with dull eyes.

"Life is so daily.  It's seems like I'd be used to it by now," Tohma had said, and laughed bitterly before deciding to ignore Eiri completely and return to his work.

Not being used to it, Eiri realized as he thought it over, was not the problem.  Rather it was the opposite; Tohma had been too used to it, so much so that he had grown so bored that he couldn't take it anymore.  And now Eiri himself was experiencing the same thing, only his situation was much worse because of Shuichi.  Shuichi had shown him what a life with nothing but chaos was like, and now that that was gone, Eiri missed it beyond all other things.  He yearned for it back with all his being, to go back and relive the past all over again, from the time that Shuichi had first pushed his way into his life.

That time was as good as his life had the potential to be.  And yet, it was already gone.  Gone back into the routine of things.  There was no purpose in going on anymore, and yet Eiri found himself still here, with his arm around his lover in a compassionate embrace, trying to convince himself that everything was perfect, that he had gotten over his conflicts with his young lover and everything was good again.

He couldn't deny, however, that conflicts were always more exciting.

Everyone he had known had told him that getting involved with Shuichi was a bad idea, that it could only lead to heartbreak.  Eiri had shrugged off their warnings with arrogance, conforming to his usual demeanor and allowing absolutely no one to order him around.  Now, though, he understood what they had been warning him about.  He would never be satisfied; that was just the way he was.  It wasn't Shuichi that would ruin his life; it was that he would use Shuichi to ruin his own life.  He _had_ used Shuichi for his own purposes, but now Shuichi was once again dead weight that Eiri was uselessly dragging around, hoping that it would just come alive again, just once.

That was the bitterest thought of them all.  Eiri loved Shuichi more than anything else, but he still was dissatisfied.  It was cruel and unfair to Shuichi, and for that Eiri felt himself the biggest bastard to ever set foot on the face of the Earth.  It was Shuichi's own misfortune that made them cross paths and cause Shuichi to fall in love with him.  Eiri knew that soon Shuichi would be forever regretting that that happened in the first place.  As for Eiri, he knew that he would never ever regret meeting Shuichi, that Shuichi had given him a glimpse of something that was much better than what he had now.  Eiri knew that he himself definitely had the better situation of the two, despite that Shuichi deserved it so much more than him, and for that he would always be sorry.

It was Shuichi's own misfortune, Eiri thought again in an attempt to console himself as he softly slid away from his lover and walked to the empty desk as quietly as he could so as not to wake him.  He sat down in the chair and opened a drawer, removing a sheet of paper and a black pen.  Holding the tip of the pen barely above the paper, Eiri went over the situation again in his mind, and, making his decision final, he proceeded to scrawl out his message in his strangely beautiful penmanship, his unique calligraphy decorating the page with a solemn note.  He knew it would take Shuichi a long time to decipher this style of writing, but he wanted to make it look the best it possibly could, perhaps with the hope that Shuichi would have a reason to keep it.

It took him nearly an hour to finish the note, and all the while he noticed that his eyes occasionally panged with the sting of gathering tears, though he managed to contain himself until he signed his name in the beautiful hand, upon which he had to shove the paper forward to avoid ruining it with the water stain of teardrops.  He made no sound, and wiped away his tears indifferently, before setting the note among the pile of papers upon which Shuichi's hordes of unfinished lyrics were scribbled in a nearly indiscernible handwriting.  Eiri only hoped that Shuichi would be perceptive for once and notice the note before he got to work and looked through the lyrics, so that he would not once again make a fool of himself in front of the entire staff of NG by bursting out in tears, though Eiri didn't have much reassurance, especially considering that Shuichi had failed to notice the fact that all of Eiri's items, including his clothes and laptop, had disappeared completely from his apartment and were currently locked away in the trunk of his car.

Eiri started towards the door of the bedroom, though he immediately turned around and frantically returned to the bedside.  Running his hand across his lover's face, he once again felt the tears prick at his eyes and blur his vision.  

"Yuki…" Shuichi whispered incoherently, unconsciously leaning into Eiri's touch and smiling slightly in his sleep.

Feeling his breath almost catch in his throat, Eiri quickly removed his hand and swung around.  Worrying that he might possibly sob aloud at any moment, he dashed out of the room, out of his apartment, and jumped into his car.  He sped away quickly into the darkness of the early morning, not daring to look back in the direction of home lest he change his mind.

He noticed out of the corner of his eye the square of paper that clashed with the dark exterior of the passenger seat of his car—a one-way plane ticket to New York that he had just purchased yesterday.  Reluctantly, he gathered it with a free hand and placed it into his coat pocket, unwilling to look at it as if it were the vilest thing on the planet.  He had not told anyone, not even Mika or Tohma, of his plans for leaving; he didn't want to be bothered about it.  He knew what he was doing was the right thing…he just wished it didn't hurt quite as much as it did.

Parking his car in the vast parking lot of the international airport, Eiri lit a cigarette and sat motionless in the driver's seat for a long time, arguing with himself about this decision.  He dreaded leaving his Shuichi more than anything, but he knew that his situation would only grow worse as time went on, and leaving now was the only way to lessen the hurt.  Slowly gathering as much resolve as he possibly could, he hesitantly stepped out of his car and took his luggage out of his trunk.  Flicking away his cigarette, he gazed up at the building looming before him and allowed the dread to overcome his body and send him into some sort of trance in which his body seemed to work on its own as his mind blocked out all of his senses, and before he could protest, he was sitting on the small seat of the plane, watching the city lights grow smaller and dimmer through the window as the plane soared higher into the sky.

Behind him he heard the muffled electronic tones of a song all too familiar to him, and he turned around to look upon a kid, no older than eighteen, resting against the back of his seat and tuning out the rest of the world around him with his headphones turned up so loud that Eiri could clearly hear the notes of the song, and even the voice of the singer, which, he noted sadly, was the very singer he had just left at home, sleeping in his bed.  Eiri resumed his former position and stared at the back of the seat in front of him, trying desperately to tune out the sound of the headphones behind him.  A tingling sensation spread through his body as he was once again reminded how much he didn't want to leave Japan, where his lover lay, still unaware of his absence.  It was too late, anyway.

This is the best thing for both of us, Eiri thought silently, willing the tears that once again poked at his eyes to go away.

Eiri closed the window of the airplane, removing the last of the glare that still remained of the city.  He was starting a new chapter of his life with this decision.  He wasn't planning on ever returning to Japan.

After all this time, he was finally leaving Shuichi behind forever.

========

Uhn, so this is kinda different from all my other stories, which are all either humor or lemons (which I also find humorous, in a somewhat dirty sort of way).  I dunno.  This will probably just be a prologue.  Maybe.  I just really like Yuki x Shu.

o.o

Cassi


	2. Mirror

**Je Suis Désolé**

**Chapter 1**

Hiro strummed his guitar and winced at the sound.  He noticed that ever since Bad Luck had become famous, his ears seemed to have gotten more sensitive, and now to him, a note that was just the slightest bit out of tune sounded like a wrong note altogether.  Not that he minded, of course; he took it as a sign that he was becoming a better musician.  He needed to be good, to compensate for the fact that a certain lead singer refused to pay attention to the music while singing and often went off on his own tangents.

Though lately that wasn't the case, Hiro remembered sadly as he set the guitar on the floor, deciding that it would be too much effort to tune it.  Shuichi nowadays lacked any energy whatsoever, compared to how he was a year ago, before the disappearance of Yuki.  Sure, Shuichi would still get excited before concerts, and intentionally annoy everybody around him, though after being the said singer's friend for such a long time, Hiro could see that Shuichi's actions were all just a façade.  Shuichi was a good actor; that was for sure, considering that he had everybody but Hiro himself fooled, but Hiro noticed that when Shuichi thought no one was looking, he would close his eyes and let his head fall in exhaustion.  Because Shuichi worked so hard at hiding it, Hiro didn't dare bring it up, but all the same, he was tremendously worried about his best friend.

A light clicking sound warned of an intruder, and Hiro quieted immediately and sank against the wall, watching the door.  Of course, he wasn't afraid, but rather more annoyed; he had come to the studio this late specifically to have a time to practice alone, and the fact that someone was disturbing it frustrated him.

The door opened slowly and in stepped the very person Hiro had just been thinking about, carrying a look that Hiro was beginning to find all too familiar.  His eyes were halfway closed and held a distant look in them, as if he were looking at something inside is own head.  The rest of his face just simply looked tired, and his movements matched it; his shoulders sagged and he was barely lifting his feet off the ground.  Hiro sighed at his friend's appearance and then proceeded to pluck a string on his guitar in order to make his friend aware of his presence.  Shuichi glanced over at him, a startled look consuming his features that lasted much longer than it should have; even after recognizing Hiro, the look remained, giving Hiro the feeling that Shuichi was afraid of him.

"Shuichi," Hiro said in a voice barely above a whisper that he was certain conveyed his concern entirely.  Immediately Shuichi's horror broke, replaced by a broad smile that was incredibly convincing, though Hiro could still tell that it was fake.

"Hiro, what are you doing here?" Shuichi said, his voice containing his usual cheerful tone.

"I could ask you the same question," Hiro spat, sounding a little more bitter than intended, though it didn't seem to phase Shuichi at all.

Shuichi giggled sheepishly.  "I think I left my house key here.  I got all the way home before I realized I didn't have it, so then I had to come all the way back."

Hiro smiled humorlessly and rose to his feet.  "Sounds like something you'd do.  Now, where'd you leave it?"  
  


Shuichi shrugged in response.  "I dunno.  I was hoping it would be in here…somewhere…"

Hiro laughed and approached his friend, wrapping a lazy arm around his shoulders, though he almost sighed when he felt the way Shuichi leaned into him, as if he desperately needed to be touched.  Hiro in turn tightened his arm in order to comfort Shuichi, though he wasn't sure if the singer noticed or not.

"Today's…the fifth…of March," Shuichi whispered almost inaudibly so that Hiro had to strain to hear, despite his sensitive ears.

"Yeah it is," Hiro replied, trying to sound interested.  "Anything special about it?"  
  


Shuichi took a long time to respond, though he did so by laughing sadly and slowly shaking his head from side to side.  "No…"

"You sure?" Hiro persisted, easily seeing through his friend's lie.

Shuichi broke free of Hiro's grasp and walked a few steps forward.  Hiro watched his back concernedly, sighing once more at his friend's behavior.  There was a long awkward silence in which Hiro desperately tried to think of something to say or do in order to help Shuichi, but his mind only came up with a blank.  At last, Shuichi himself broke it.

"It's been a year now, today," Shuichi spoke slowly, making it obvious that the words were hurting him.  "A year, since he left…"

"Oh, Shuichi…" Hiro whispered as realization hit.  He quickly stepped forward and threw his arms around Shuichi, hugging him from behind.  Shuichi once again leaned into him, and Hiro could feel his body shaking as he tried to hold in the sobs.

_He hurts you when you're with him, and he hurts you when you're away from him.  Yuki Eiri, the ultimate bastard_, Hiro thought contemptuously, tightening his arms around the pink-haired singer.  _How could Shuichi fall in love with someone like him?_

Hiro thought back to the time when Yuki had first left.  Of course, Hiro had noticed something was bothering his long time friend immediately, though it took a week before Shuichi finally admitted that Yuki had abandoned him.  After reading the note that Yuki had left for Shuichi, Hiro assured him that he would get over Yuki, that it would just take a little time.  He had waited awhile, and then began implementing a plan to help Shuichi by introducing him to new people.  He had tried both guys and girls, but Shuichi had ignored them equally.  Eventually, he even tried coming on to Shuichi himself, though that only lost him his girlfriend and caused Shuichi even more grief for not being able to return his 'feelings.'  Hiro had dropped that idea immediately and proceeded to explain to Shuichi that he really didn't feel that way about him and that he was just trying to help him.  That was when Shuichi had first started acting as though nothing was bothering him, pretending that he was back to his usual cheerful self, making Hiro feel even worse.  And, despite it all, Shuichi only continued to fall deeper and deeper into depression.

Hiro wondered if Yuki even understood how much Shuichi loved him, how much he would always love him, and how much pain he would cause by leaving him.

"I'm fine," Shuichi's voice brought an abrupt halt to Hiro's thoughts.  Shuichi pulled free of his grip and turned around with a smile across his face, wiping away one last tear.  Hiro smiled back at him sympathetically.

"Shuichi, you don't have hide it all the time," Hiro said softly, secretly worried that he might offend his friend.

Shuichi shook his head in response.  "No, Hiro, you're wrong.  I do.  All the time."

Hiro allowed his smile to fade completely as he looked into his friend's eyes, which at the moment seemed strangely empty, like bottomless pits that went on forever and yet had nothing inside of them to fill the void.  Shuichi blinked uncomfortably, causing Hiro to break his gaze.  Looking at him one last time, Shuichi smiled and turned around to leave, though he let out a strangled yelp when Hiro snatched his wrist and yanked him so hard that it sent him toppling onto the floor.  Quickly moving beside him, Hiro pinned his shoulders to the ground in an attempt to keep Shuichi from escaping.

"Shuichi, you little shit!" Hiro screamed, letting his frustration and concern for his friend come out in an angry mass of words.  "I can't believe you!  Why can't you forget about him?  He's the one that ditched you, leaving nothing for you except a stupid little note!  The coward couldn't even get up enough courage to say goodbye!  So why?  Why do you continue to dote over him even though he's long gone?"

Shuichi's eyes were wide with fear as he stared at his friend.  He opened his mouth to answer, though no words came out; rather, a strangled squeak forced its way through his closed throat, and that was the only sound he could utter at all.  Hiro's angry eyes faltered when he realized his friend's state, and his rage vanished quickly.  Releasing his grip on Shuichi's shoulders, he bowed his head in apology, though he did not lift it up once more to look at Shuichi.

"Shuichi, I didn't mean…  It's not…  I mean, I'm sorry," Hiro stuttered, failing to find the right words.  "I'm just worried, that's all."

There was a long, awkward pause before Shuichi let out a sigh.  "I'm sorry, Hiro.  I didn't mean to make you mad."

"I'm not mad, Shuichi," Hiro reassured, finally lifting his head and gently resting a hand on his shoulder.  "Like I said, I'm just worried.  That's all."  He paused a moment before continuing.  "I really think you should find someone else.  I'm not saying you have to fall in love or anything…  It's just that it might help you forget Yuki."

Shuichi once again donned a blank expression, one Hiro realized he wore when thinking about Yuki, though after a moment a smile graced his features again.

"I don't really have anyone in mind," Shuichi said with a blush.

"Well, what do you want, guys or girls?  You seem to be open to both," Hiro replied with a light chuckle, thankful that the previous heavy atmosphere was finally starting to clear.

Shuichi merely shrugged.

Hiro laughed fully and patted Shuichi's shoulder playfully.  "Truly bi, eh?  Hey, Shu, why don't you spend tonight at my place?  You can find your house key tomorrow.  Meanwhile, it'll be just you and me, the inseparable duo, just like old times before we moved out of our parents' houses.  Whaddya say?"

There was a long pause before Shuichi responded in which Hiro realized that the thick, awkward atmosphere was returning.  He could see Shuichi thinking about something, and wondered what would be so hard to decide considering the proposition.  Shuichi had realized that he only meant it as friends, didn't he?  It wasn't the same as before, that was all over now…

"Hiro…" Shuichi whined and lifted his head level with Hiro's, and for a moment Hiro could smell the familiar strawberry fragrance cascading off Shuichi, reminding him of a long time ago, before Yuki, before NG, before music even, when he had first met Shuichi and smelled that smell that seemed to naturally cling to him, and saw that pink hair, a little shorter than it was currently, with headphones cutting a trail through the ever glistening strands, and felt that skin that stayed so soft and fine even without the aid of lotion.  The tunes of the old Nittle Grasper song, played out in muffled electronic tones that were so quiet to Hiro himself, but must have been deafening to Shuichi, being pressed up against his ears like that, and the eyes, the wide, sparkling beautiful eyes.  And the words, "You like Nittle Grasper too?  They're my favorite band!  I want to be in a band just like them," and with that a friendship that had lasted longer than either had ever hoped it could.

That was the time when Hiro first noticed it: the obscure beauty hidden within everything that was Shuichi, a beauty that everyone knew existed but at the same time still couldn't quite see it.  It was the beauty that caused the fan girls to flock to their concerts as if brainwashed, the beauty that left reporters stunned and unable to record, the beauty that had made Yuki allow Shuichi to return again and again even though his presence was unwanted.  Hiro had seen it first, before anyone else, so long ago, and at that time he had decided to claim it for his own, to make Shuichi his best friend to keep this beauty by his side.

But now that beauty was slipping away.  In the exhaustion caused by Yuki's faithlessness, the beauty was fleeing, draining from Shuichi's face, starting with his eyes that previously had harbored the most beauty of all.

When Shuichi had first met the hardened novelist, his eyes had brightened ten times their usual gleam, and the beauty intensified even more.  And now it was almost all gone.  If only Hiro could do something to bring it back, anything…  What had Yuki done in the first place that had swept Shuichi off his feet so forcefully?  

"I'm not sure that's a good idea…" Shuichi was whispering.

His face was so close to Hiro's own, and his eyes, slowly giving in to the temptation to just let the fleeting beauty leave, were gazing at him with a dull question buried deep inside them that didn't really have a care to be answered.  What had that novelist done to bring about such drastic changes in his best friend?

In a quick movement, Hiro rushed forward and forced his mouth onto Shuichi's, causing eyes to widen and nothing else.  They hit the floor with a dull thump, and the world around Hiro disappeared as he began to rip at Shuichi's clothes, kissing him savagely a few times before noticing, with a painful revelation, what a mistake he had just made in his haste to help his friend.  Shuichi had uttered not a sound nor made a single action in protest, and he was returning only as much as Hiro was giving, if that.  With a glance into his friend's eyes, Hiro continued with his ministrations, ripping off Shuichi's clothes, touching him, and kissing him, knowing that it didn't matter anyway.  It was already too late.  The dullness had consumed everything about his friend, and the beauty had at last vanished entirely.

More than anyone else, Hiro hated Yuki Eiri.  The rancor that had slowly grown since the author had appeared in Shuichi's life flared violently in Hiro, and as he gripped Shuichi tightly in his arms, he realized that Yuki was consuming his thoughts about as much as Shuichi's.  His disappearance had hurt Hiro as much as it did Shuichi, and as Hiro claimed Shuichi as his own, he knew that there was no passion for each other, but rather for that single person that had changed both their lives more than they ever could his.

========

His voice was shot, and he couldn't have sung to save his life.  Fujisaki took the liberty to notice and didn't fail to comment, but Hiro just sat in the corner and looked too afraid to even sneeze, lest he be ripped apart by some demon if he should.  Or by Shuichi himself.

For the first time in his life, Shuichi was beginning to understand how Yuki had felt when he had first come into his life, and he realized that maybe Yuki really wasn't as cold as he originally thought him to be.

He knew now what true exhaustion really was; it had nothing to do with the physical aspect of life, but rather it ripped at the soul with subtle claws, taking away the energy so slowly that one hardly noticed its presence until they were too deep into it to be able to pull out of it again.  Shuichi hated it and desperately longed for the time when Yuki was still around, but that only made the fatigue stronger and deeper.  He wasn't sure how much longer he could take it, but he couldn't do anything about it.

Yuki must have been like that for six years before Shuichi had tried to help him, and Shuichi wondered with a hint of desperation if anyone would come around to help him as well.  But what choice did he have but to keep going, to keep working no matter how much it hurt him?

He had never been this tired in his entire life.

There had to be a limit somewhere.  Surely a human had to have a breaking point.  He couldn't carry everything.  If things continued on as they were, one day he would break, shatter into a billion shards of glass, and someone would have to come and sweep him up and scoop him into a dustbin and throw him in the trash, just like that mirror in Yuki's bathroom, the one that Yuki glared at with the fiercest glare he could manage, and the mirror cringed and tried to look away, but Yuki just continued to glare at it until it cracked and littered the carpet with its deadly silver remains, covered in blood from where it bit Yuki's knuckles in one last fierce attack for life, even though it was already dead and there was no point in fighting anymore.  It was a rare sight to see Yuki crying, but when Shuichi had heard the glass shriek when it broke, and ran in the bathroom to find Yuki clutching his bleeding hand, sitting in the middle of the floor and surrounded by a shrine of broken silver, weeping harder than Shuichi had ever seen anyone weep before, as if he were grieving the mirror's parting, that was when Shuichi, though he didn't know why or what it was, first knew that there was definitely something to be afraid of.

Now he knew though.  Now he knew why Yuki glared at the mirror everyday, and why Yuki had cried when the mirror had at last broken.  He understood now what back then he couldn't comprehend but still knew was there; he knew that eventually everything breaks, just like the mirror, and that it was just a matter of time before he himself shattered.  One of the few things he didn't know was when this would occur; he felt like he was about to fall over any moment, and yet he was reminded that Yuki felt like he was about to fall over any moment for six years.  And then it felt like he would just continue to trudge along, slowly and tiredly, down the path, waiting for life to end all the while knowing that it never would; that he would forget about music, about his friends, about his dreams, about Yuki, and continue on and on, just waiting.  There was no clear end in sight, and yet Shuichi had no choice but to keep walking forever and ever.

Hiro was staring at him.  He had been the whole time, and vaguely Shuichi thought back to what had happened the night before, when for that brief moment Hiro had actually succeeded in making Shuichi truly forget about Yuki, just for a second, and that was the very second that Yuki was really gone, not ever coming back, just like he said.  That was when Yuki's words finally rang true, and when Shuichi would never see him again.  Yuki had disappeared and now Shuichi was about to shatter, and he didn't know what would happen after he shattered but he knew he would, someday he would.

But despite that, he was still singing, with his voice so tired it cracked whenever he reached too high of a note, and K was holding a gun to his head but he hardly noticed it was there, because a gun is hardly a threat when compared to the thought of actually breaking down and shattering like glass in a mirror.  And only a few minutes later his voice had completely stopped, and the gun dug deeper into his skin, but he only stood there until his body decided that standing was too much effort and instead collapsed to the floor and lost consciousness, but Shuichi barely noticed because he didn't even feel like he was inside that body anymore.

He was a mirror, and Yuki was glaring at him, as if he were trying to shatter him.

========

It had only been about thirty seconds before Shuichi regained consciousness after collapsing, but his faintness was being treated as a life-threatening disease, and he was forced to lie down on the couch and drink an inhuman amount of water.  Even Seguchi Tohma himself was called to inspect the damage dealt to the precious pop idol, and the man strode into the studio only a few moments later, looking cool and calm as he cleared the studio of all living beings, including a very worried Kumagorou that had shown up to investigate.

When everyone was gone, his calm demeanor still had yet to fade.  He knelt down beside Shuichi and smiled his usual smile, one that was warm yet portrayed no emotion.

"Are you feeling well, Shindou-san?" Tohma asked politely, though he was only met with extremely fatigued eyes that had long since dulled from overwhelming exhaustion.  For once, Seguchi Tohma allowed his smile to falter, but only for the briefest of moments.

Tohma lifted a graceful hand out from behind the dark folds of his coat, and the fingers seemed to wave and dance with a personality of their own for a second before becoming still and awkward, and Shuichi gazed at them with a sort of vaguely distant interest.  A hand that was so defined and delicate as this one certainly couldn't belong to even a woman, much less a man; it was too smooth and unblemished and perfect, seeming to match more closely to the hand of a priceless porcelain doll that was made with the most meticulous care and painstaking effort, crafted by a master that habitually carved every single minute detail of the human body.  Shuichi actually fell out of his stupor and started when that hand slid forward to rest on his forehead, sucking the dazed heat out of his head with its icy coolness.  It was the first time Tohma had ever touched him before, crossing an imaginary social barrier that Shuichi had just assumed was always there.

As quickly and unexpectedly as Tohma had touched Shuichi in the first place, he pulled his hand away and hid it in the depths of his black coat once again, smiling a large, warm, emotionless smile once more.

"You've been overworking yourself lately.  I'm suspending you for now, until you recover," Tohma said, his words slowly spoken, articulated to an unusual degree in the high, flawless voice that could turn an ocean to ice.  "You should relax and enjoy yourself for now, Shindou-san."  And with that, in one fluid motion, he was on his feet and gliding towards the door, almost seeming as though he didn't even set his feet on the ground as he moved.

Shuichi started again when Tohma's hand reappeared and grasped the door, realizing that there was something that could save him from shattering, there was only one thing, and now he was alone in a room with the only person who could possibly get this something for him currently leaving.  He opened his mouth in a moment of hesitation, trying to decide if he really wanted to be saved, if it was really worth it, but a wave of desperation washed over him, and he swung his feet to the floor, gripping the cushions of the couch as he willed his voice to work, just this once, even if he lost it forever more.

"Seguchi-san!" he cried, his voice cracking painfully with a sparse and rough texture abounding within it.  Tohma turned around and stared at him, his icy eyes still untainted with any emotion whatsoever.  Shuichi paused, feeling the anxiety seethe inside of him so thickly he felt that it could find a weak spot and shatter him once and for all.  "Y-you must speak to him now and then…  You're his brother-in-law, you have to!"

Tohma knew what he was asking even though he hadn't even spoken a question; Shuichi could see in his eyes that he knew exactly what the question was.  There was a miniscule pause that lasted for an eternity before Tohma made any sort of response.

A ghost of a smile touched his lips, but his eyes remained unchanged and only seemed to mock Shuichi.  And with that he turned around once more and exited quickly but not hurriedly, leaving Shuichi sitting on the couch, his shoulders drooping as the exhaustion returned to him twice fold.

It was one or the other; Yuki and Shuichi were together or they weren't, and one way was Shuichi's preference while the other was Yuki's.  And either way one of them was in pain.  Of course Tohma would side with Yuki; no matter how valuable Shuichi was to Tohma, Yuki would always be priceless.

Shuichi could see it clearly now.  Yuki was before him, glaring more fiercely than before, and Shuichi could feel himself beginning to crack.

========

Notes:  I have really no idea where I'm going with this story.  Anyway, I know that most of this chapter is a little incoherent, but I did that intentionally to show how tired and confused Shuichi's head is.  I'm probably going to go to Yuki next chapter and do the usual Yuki stuff, like 'I really miss Shuichi but there's no way in Hell I'm going to admit that.'  I dunno, maybe not.

Thank you to my reviewers, both those have reviewed and those who will… hint…

By the way, 'Je Suis Désolé' means 'I'm sorry' in French.  Not that I speak French, more like I have this random French learning program installed on my computer and I accidentally clicked on the icon and got stuck in it because nothing was labeled and I couldn't figure out how to exit so I was randomly clicking buttons and I got to this English-French dictionary and I looked up "sorry," and got that and I thought it was a cool phrase so I used it and this is a super long run-on sentence so I'll end it now.

Suggestions are welcome.

Goodbye.

Until next time,

Cassi


	3. Beach

Je Suis Désolé 

**Chapter 2**

Hiro watched silently, curling his toes in the warm sand of the beach, as Shuichi waded through the ocean water.  A soft breeze blew across the surface, rustling the pink hair away from the dull purple eyes that were still buried within his own head, staring at something that only existed in his own mind.  The water lapped at his bare knees, splashing up his legs and nearly soaking his shorts, though Hiro doubted whether his friend would have cared if his entire body became drenched.  He was too busy staring, with his head tilted slightly to the side as if it was too much effort to hold it up straight, at the horizon line that the dark blue ocean created when it touched the light blue sky.

America was in that direction, and Hiro realized that his friend knew it.  He could tell that Shuichi wished with all of his body that if he stared long enough, he could draw America closer and closer until he could just walk to where Yuki was.  Wherever that was.

Hiro rose to his feet and trudged towards Shuichi's place in the waves, squinting from the rays of the sun in the same direction of his friend and pretending to be trying to figure out what was so interesting.  Shuichi made no response, and Hiro began to wonder if his friend even realized that he was standing right next to him.

Shuichi had finally stopped repressing his feelings and hiding his depression, at least, though he had been doing such a good job prior, Hiro hadn't realized how bad it had gotten.  And Hiro knew, with a notion of sorrow, that he was one of the major causes of his friend's ailment, and yet he didn't know what to do to help, only making it worse every time he tried anything.  Every moment the fire in Shuichi's eyes got dimmer and dimmer, swallowed by the pain, and now, as Hiro looked, he could barely see any life left at all.  Shuichi was about to give up, he realized with desperation, but there didn't seem to be anything he could do.

There was something about the way Shuichi was standing as still and lifeless as a statue, not even blinking and hardly breathing, that sent a chill down Hiro's spine.  He couldn't stand it; he had to make it end, so he did the first thing that came to mind:  Wrapping an arm around Shuichi's shoulders, he pulled him closer to him, breaking Shuichi's stance and nearly causing him to fall over, which he most likely would have, had Hiro not been holding him.  In his peripheral vision, Hiro saw a purple gaze settle upon him quizzically, but he did not dare look at his friend; he hated to see the expression his friend had recently taken to wearing.

"Shu-i-chi," Hiro sang, forcing a smile on his lips as he watched Shuichi out of the corner of his eye, though he made his gaze stay on the horizon.  "Cheer up.  Seguchi gave you time off, so you should enjoy it.  You don't get this kind of chance that often."

"Hiro…" Shuichi said in a voice that was barely above a whisper, and upon hearing such a strained voice, Hiro remembered that Shuichi hadn't even spoken to him since he had fainted the day before; the whole trip here, he had merely clung to Hiro's back on the motorcycle like always, though his grip had been a little less snug, and Hiro knew it was because Shuichi wasn't so afraid of falling off and rolling down the street as he had been before Yuki had left.

"Listen, Shuichi, about what happened the night before last," Hiro whispered, leaning closer so that his friend could hear, "I'm sorry about that.  I wasn't thinking.  It was a mistake."

There was a pause in which Hiro couldn't decide whether or not Shuichi had heard him, or if he had even been listening at all.  Judging by Shuichi's recent eyes, he seemed to be in a constantly dazed state and hardly ever joined the real world.  Hiro allowed the silence to turn into an awkward one, awkward for him at least, as he wondered what to do; he wasn't quite up to repeating himself.  However, his worries were cut short when Shuichi sighed weakly and shook his head.

"I understand why you don't want me," he said, not even bothering to force a smile.

Hiro scowled and finally turned look at him, only to find that he had already turned back and was blankly staring at the horizon again.  Hiro snatched his chin and turned his head so that they were staring into each other's eyes.

"That's not what I mean and you know it," Hiro hissed.

"Then why are you apologizing?" came Shuichi's lazy reply.  He closed his eyes halfway and leaned closer, removing several comfortable inches of space between their faces.

"Shuichi…"

"If you don't want me, then push me away," Shuichi breathed, wrapping his arms around Hiro's neck and leaning even closer so that their lips softly touched.  Hiro inhaled sharply and gently set his hands on Shuichi's slender waist, his heart rate rapidly increasing to extraordinary levels, accented by his mind, which was currently screaming at him to stop, that he would regret this, that this was a mistake.  But he couldn't stop; he knew he couldn't.  Not when Shuichi was asking him to keep going, even if Shuichi didn't realize or didn't care what horror this could potentially bring to both their lives.  Shuichi had already given up hope.  This Hiro knew and was trying to fix by lifting Shuichi up with him, but rather it was working the opposite way; Shuichi was dragging him down.  Hiro would do anything for his best friend, and that was what was causing his downfall.

Everything was crashing down.  He could hear the world crumble around them as soon as he caught Shuichi's lips with his own and slid his hands along the slender waist, searching for a button to undo.  Everything was going wrong and it was his fault.  This he knew, and yet he still could not stop.

========

It was frighteningly cold out; even though he had another's body heat wrapped around him, the ocean waves that crashed upon the shore just outside the cabin sent chills down his spine, and he couldn't help but shiver and curl deeper into the arms that held him.  He softly reached up to where the other's head rested against the pillow, sleeping in a one-sided dreamlike warmth, and gently ran his fingers through the silky hair that cascaded over the sheets.  Hair that was much too dark and certainly too long to belong to the one whose arms he should have been wrapped up in.

Upon the realization of that, Shuichi's world went dark, deepening the shades of gray that surrounded him in the nighttime cabin.  The one sleeping beside him did not smell of cigarettes and beer, but rather of a more pleasant, flowery scent, like the way springtime smells when it first strides in full of new life and nostalgia at the same time.  It was not a smell that should belong to any person, and certainly not the person that was sleeping beside him.  It pained Shuichi to know that someone could smell so fresh and clean, not like the dry, dead smell that seemed to cling to Yuki no matter how clean he was.  Shuichi like this new scent much better, and upon that thought he immediately tensed, trying to forget about that, to stop smelling anything, to stop breathing.

Yuki was slipping further and further away, and Shuichi could sense that he himself was about to let go of his previous lover.  Everyone had told him that he needed to let go, because they all knew what he had only subconsciously acknowledged, that Yuki wasn't coming back for him, and he needed to move on, but Shuichi was terrified of what would happen if he did forget about Yuki.  He had depended on Yuki for so long, he couldn't imagine how he could function without him, and balancing on even just the feeble remaining scraps of the love they had once shared was a more comforting thought to Shuichi than trying to balance on nothing at all.

He still needed Yuki, and he wouldn't allow himself to be convinced otherwise.

He would keep trudging on, supporting himself on only the rapidly disappearing memory of Yuki's love, because he knew he had to.  He would keep singing, keep performing and recording until he dropped dead because there was nothing else he could do.  And he would keep smiling, forever, because if he stopped smiling, everything else would stop, and he wouldn't be able to go on anymore.

Before he had hoped that someone would come and save him from shattering, and secretly inside his heart, his wished that that someone would be Yuki.  He had fantasized Yuki appearing out of the darkness, smiling genuinely and opening his arms, and with that everything would be back to normal and much better again, and he could just forget about the previous year of torment.  Now, however, he knew he had just ruined every last chance of that wish ever coming true; he had betrayed Yuki's love twice already with his best friend whom he didn't love.  Hiro had told him, had whispered to him that it was a mistake, but Shuichi hadn't needed to hear those words to know it, and yet he had needed it so desperately then.  It had been a last effort, he knew, to keep himself from breaking, but it had only provided temporary relief.  It was the same as alcohol; the next morning, all the problems came back with several additional ones gained over the night.  Hiro was his alcohol that he knew only relieved him of his pain briefly, but all the same he couldn't stop.

The crack was only getting larger and larger, bringing him closer and closer to shattering everyday.  And there was Yuki, as always, standing before him, breaking him more and more.  It was the last image of Yuki that he still clutched onto; it was the only thing that kept him moving forward, and at the same time, it was the very thing that was causing him to crack. 

They would return to Tokyo in the morning and report back to Seguchi, and Shuichi would smile and pretend the time off did him good.  And then he would sing and record and perform once more, and everything would go back on schedule.

But no matter what, Yuki remained there, glaring at him without ever faltering.

========

Notes:  Sorry, this is a really short chapter here that took a really long time to write.  And I don't even really like how it turned out.  But, the reason it took so long is because I got a new computer, so the entire weekend was spent copying and uploading and downloading practically everything imaginable, and then I had to spend a few hours trying to figure out where XP saved everything and what the new addresses to my hidden folders where so that I could open my music.  It was quite hectic but at the same time really fun because I am a super duper nerd who loves computers and anime.  And hey, check it out, I'm slowly trying to teach myself to type in Japanese (keep in mind, that's *trying.*  I'm also *trying* to learn Japanese, and apparently French too, all because of this story.  Fancy that.  Oh well, I hope your computer has the ability to read the Japanese text, and that FF.Net had the ability to post it.):

すごいですね。でも、私の文法はあまりよくないですから、多分　皆の日本人は読んで、 笑っています。じゃ、それは生活ですね。

Oh, yeah, and just kidding about the whole "this chapter is going to be about Yuki" thing I was talking about in the last notes.  -.-  My guess is he'll probably show up in the next chapter, which, hopefully, I'll have posted by next weekend.  So, yeah, I think that's all.

Until next time,

Cassi.


	4. Concert

Chapter 3 

Seguchi Tohma folded his arms across his chest irritably as the line of passengers filed past him, glaring at each one from behind his sunglasses that he had taken to wearing in order to hide from the prying eyes of the public.  Each passenger looked equally tired from the hours just spent on the airplane as they trudged by, only glancing at him to confirm that they did not know him.

After having spent five hours waiting at the airport for a late arriving plane, supposedly on which was his favorite little brother-in-law, Tohma's patience was beginning to wear a little thin.  Although Mika had assured him that Eiri was coming, last time Tohma had spoken to him, Eiri had sounded as though he had no intention of coming, even though he assured both of them that he would.  Tohma knew why Eiri didn't want to return; it all boiled down to Shindou.  Although Eiri would never admit it, Tohma knew that he was secretly afraid of the prospect of having to face the boy again.

And for that reason, Tohma once again concluded to himself that it was a waste of his time to be waiting here for a man that was most likely never to show.

"Flight 119 is now arriving in Gate 5," came the echoing, yet strangely muffled female voice over the intercom, causing Tohma to unconsciously look up at the gate sign protruding from the wall on the far corner of the terminal.  Gate 3.  He couldn't quite remember how he had come to be standing in front of this gate, which he realized just happened to be the correct one, and the plane that was docked there, regurgitating its passengers, was the one the Eiri supposedly had flown in on.

Of course, so far Eiri had yet to appear.  The passengers flocking out of the gate were becoming more and more sparse, and Tohma was feeling the temptation to just turn and leave right then.  He wasn't sure if he actually would have left, had Eiri not rounded the corner just as the thought crossed his mind.  Tohma quickly blanketed the tired daze he had acquired from the previously idle five hours with a smile and stepped out from the crowd to be sure that Eiri wouldn't miss him.  Eiri's golden eyes settled on him, but he did not break stride.

"Let's get out of here," he muttered, irritation corrupting his voice.  "I need a cigarette."

Tohma quickly fell in stride behind him, his smile faltering only the slightest bit.  "It's nice to see you again, Eiri-san," he called ahead of him politely.  "It's been over a year now, hasn't it?"

Eiri grunted.  "That's the only reason I came back, you realize.  For Mika."

Tohma jogged a few steps forward so that he was at Eiri's side.  "You really love America that much, then?" Tohma took a slight, necessary pause and smirked.  "Or is it that you hate Japan that much?"

"Don't force yourself, Seguchi," Eiri uttered, reaching into his pocket as the two neared the exit for his cigarettes.  Flying around the world had deprived him of precious available smoking time, and Tohma realized that he himself was probably not helping the nicotine craving, though he wasn't about to let that stop him.  

"Of course, I was the one who asked you to come back, not Mika."

Eiri's swift pace broke, and he glared at Tohma with fierce golden eyes.  "I don't know what you're talking about," he stated in what was obviously a lie, though Tohma dared not comment.

"What I'm saying is," Tohma sang, striding forward with an artificial grace, his long white index finger angled, with a slight curve, towards his own head, "I thought it would be best for both of you if you returned."

"Both of us?" Eiri repeated, failing to hide his confusion as he glared at Tohma with narrow eyes.  Tohma perceived this, and a victorious smile crossed his face.

"You are of my primary concern, of course," Tohma continued, pretending as though he hadn't noticed Eiri's question.  "I would have ignored him, if I hadn't seen that you too were suffering.  I find it odd though, that someone like him would be better at hiding it than you."

"Are you talking about--" Eiri started, though he cut himself short when Tohma's icy eyes flashed at him with all of the previous humor drained from them.

"Shindou's really sick, Eiri-san," Tohma said, "and it's because of you.  I want you to come to his concert."

Eiri remained silent for a moment, staring at Tohma incredulously, before he regained a hold of himself and began angrily marching away, his footsteps seeming to echo even in the crowded airport.  "No, I told you I wasn't going to see him," he hissed as he passed Tohma.

Tohma quickly followed him, having to jog to keep up with Eiri's new quickened pace.  "You don't have to talk to him, or even make your presence known.  Just watch him, and you'll understand why I want this."

Eiri halted suddenly, causing Tohma to nearly collide with his back.  A few moments of silence passed between the two before Eiri finally let out a sigh and glared at Tohma.

"If he sees me--"

"He won't see you," Tohma interrupted quickly, "unless you decide you want him to."

Another silence fell upon them, though this one was much shorter than the last.

"Fine," Eiri muttered, immediately turning and once again hurrying towards the exit, fingering the package of cigarettes in his pocket once again.

He couldn't have known that Tohma's last words were a warning.

========

Not only was the concert hall packed with rabid fan girls, each as horribly and piercingly high-pitched as the next, but it was also dark, so dark that Eiri felt the urge to remove his sunglasses, though he dared not to; he had learned over the last few years that he and Shuichi shared the majority of their fans.  Even though this was a concert and not a bookstore, Eiri knew he still ran the risk of being recognized, and if he were to be recognized, Shuichi would know that he was here.  He wasn't sure what he would do in that situation, so he let his sunglasses remain over his eyes, making him feel blind and vulnerable.

Not only that, but Eiri was beginning to wonder when exactly the concert was going to start.  The fan girls' voices and screams were like nails on a chalkboard, and each time he heard one, an uncomfortable chill would run down his spine and make him shudder violently, no matter how much he tensed his body to make it stop.  The concert was already running twenty minutes past its posted starting time, and the hordes of fan girls were getting restless.

Eiri was leaning against the back wall of the hall, the location naturally being as far away from the stage as possible.  He had chosen this spot, he knew secretly, not to hide from Shuichi's vision, but rather the opposite; ever since Shuichi's first concert, he had stood in the same area, and Shuichi had always managed to pick him out, despite the glaring lights and thousands of faces of the crowd.  He had a hidden desire that Shuichi would see him, recognize him, and show some sign of affection, something that told Eiri that he had missed him in his year of absence, and that he was still wanted.  It was a selfish wish, Eiri knew.  He had left specifically so that Shuichi wouldn't feel like that anymore, that Shuichi wouldn't have to have a heartache over him everyday just because of his callous personality which he could not seem to get rid of.  

Eiri didn't know which would make him feel worse; if Shuichi did show a sign of recognition and desire, Eiri would know that his entire absence had been a waste, that Shuichi hadn't gotten over him yet, and that he had ruined Shuichi's life for good.  On the other hand, Eiri knew he would be hurt if Shuichi had forgotten about him.  It was a double-edged sword, and each side hurt as much as the other.

At last, the lights dimmed, and Eiri was able to remove his sunglasses.  He watched the stage intently as the show began with the pink-haired singer marching up onto it, a smile plastered across his face and his movements and actions as big and noticeable as ever.  He reached the microphone and snatched it enthusiastically, holding it to his mouth as he called out his greeting.

"La li ho!" he cried, his voice reverberating out over the hall and filling all of the open spaces with its satiny quality.  Eiri's heart clenched when he heard the words; other than the import CDs he had ordered in America, he had not heard his lover's voice at all.  With such a voice pushing its way into his ears, Eiri felt the weight of reality crash upon him; although he had desperately shoved it to the back of his mind until he was able to convince himself that it was not true, he missed Shuichi greatly.  Everything about him, whether it be a good quality or not, Eiri missed and wanted more than anything else.  And now, he was so close, in the very same building, as the one thing he wanted most in the world.

But the fear of Shuichi's reaction restrained him from moving.

There was a brief silence while the other two band members filed onto the stage behind him, though Eiri kept his eyes locked on the singer, watching as if he would die if he blinked.  And watching like that, despite the distance between them, he saw it:  Shuichi's eyes, as always, scanned the audience, searching to see if someone had shown up after all.  And for a second, Eiri knew that Shuichi had seen him, and was staring at him, but it was over all too quickly.  There was no reaction; the singer went on, as always, holding up the microphone and energetically announcing their first song, and causing Eiri's heart to twist so hard, he swore he could have just collapsed.  A wave of dizziness washed over him, and he leaned fully against the wall, allowing it to support him entirely and keep him from fainting.

Eiri didn't realize he had closed his eyes until he opened them when the music started, and all the pain he had been feeling just a minute ago vanished.  He lifted his eyes to the stage, where Shuichi was dancing and singing, ignoring his surroundings and seeming as though he would keep on singing forever, no matter what happened.  There was something subtle in his movements, something that Eiri couldn't quite pinpoint but knew was there nonetheless, that was screaming out to him.  Eiri looked around at the faces of the girls around him, though each of them stared at the stage, captivated by the music and Shuichi's own physical beauty, and nothing else.  They didn't see it, whatever it was.  Eiri stared at the singer, trying to decide what it was that was so strange about him.  It was something Shuichi was trying to hide, but it was still there.  What was it?

_"Shindou's really sick, Eiri-san."_

Tohma's words came rushing back at him with a hidden force that he hadn't realized they possessed when they were first spoken.  Anxiety crept up his spine as he stared at the stage, at Shuichi who was still moving strangely, and he now knew why Tohma had dragged him to the concert.  Shuichi wasn't sick, not physically at least.  But there was definitely something wrong.

Swallowing his fear, his pride, and all other emotions that were fighting to overcome him at that moment, he slowly began to push his way forward through the crowd, ignoring the displeased grunts from the girls, and he made his way closer and closer to the stage, to the place where his Shuichi was singing and dancing and suffering like he never had before.

Eiri knew that he was the one who was causing this, and it was his duty to fix it.  He just hoped that it wasn't too late.

========

Shuichi looked into the mirror at his own expressionless face, staring into his own staring eyes.  The hairdresser yanked his head to the side, but Shuichi didn't bother to cry out and scream like he used to.  The concert was already starting late, and he didn't need to delay it anymore.

It was strange how these little things that used to bother him so much before now hardly mattered to him at all.  It was just another concert, and he would do his job without complaining, like always.  Yuki was gone, and now music was the only thing that meant anything to him now.  He would continue to sing so that he could continue to sing, and that was all there was to it.

"There!  Perfect!" his hairdresser cried, lifting his utensils up into the air excitedly.  Shuichi looked at the reflection of his hair, noticing that it looked to same as always to him, though he didn't bother to comment.

"Thank you," he muttered and stood, pulling away the cloth that had protected his performance costume.  He began to make his way towards the door, but before he could open it, it swung open and in marched Hiro, a scowl on his face.

"You almost ready?" he cried.  "The concert's already past its starting time!"

Shuichi nodded silently and trudged past his friend, vaguely taking note of the way Hiro's scowl fell immediately to a guilty frown.  Hiro had been acting like that for a while now, and Shuichi didn't feign ignorance as to why.  Shuichi knew that he had treated Hiro like a one-night stand, returning the next day and everyday after that pretending as though nothing had ever happened.  It had left Hiro confused and helpless, but Shuichi didn't care, nor did he want to have to deal with having to comfort Hiro.  It was no one's fault, after all, and Shuichi didn't understand why Hiro couldn't accept that.

Before he knew it, Shuichi was onstage, the lights nearly blinding him, as he called out his usual greeting, the words flowing from his mouth without him even thinking about it; if he had thought about it, he knew he wouldn't have been able to say it because it was definitely not how he felt.  It was a practiced speech put into so much use that it spilled from his mouth with liquid ease; he'd be able to recite it in his sleep, if the dream permitted such a circumstance.  Everything was the same as always; the concerts were falling into routine along with everything else.  The faces of the crowd slowly began to become more visible, glowing orange among the darkness.  In the pause while his band members entered the stage, he found himself once again scanning the crowd, not because he was actually looking for him, but just because it was an old habit that he doubted he would ever break.  And it was because of this habit that he saw him; the golden hair and eyes staring at him, watching him with an impatient glare.

But it wasn't him.  Shuichi knew it couldn't be him.  He had searched for Yuki and waited for Yuki to make an appearance at his concerts, to show up and say that he was sorry for leaving, that he would never leave again.  For over a year he had waited for that moment, and it had never happened.  Yuki had never come back, and Shuichi accepted that he never would.  Yuki had disappeared from not only Shuichi's life, but from the face of the Earth.  Yuki was dead.  This person, coolly leaning against the back wall and staring at him, the person wasn't Yuki.  He was just a guy that looked like him, or even a hallucination.  But it definitely wasn't him…

He continued on with the concert as always.  There was nothing else he could do.  He announced the song, and sang as always, allowing his lyrics to roll off his tongue in the correct notes.  The performance was perfect; not a single mistake issued from his body.  He didn't make mistakes anymore; it was beyond him to do so.  He just sang what he was supposed to sing, and he wasn't able to do anything else.  Naturally, no mistakes followed.  Yuki's disappearance was the best thing for him.  He had survived through it, and now he could sing like he used to before Yuki entered his life.  His dream of being a singer was tainted by the stoic novelist, but now the dream had come back and come true at the same time, and he could sing.

The revelation engulfed him with heat as he sang to his voice's limits.  He could see the all of the audiences eyes widen, but he didn't pay mind.  His heart was racing and his breath issue from his throat, carrying with them the silky tunes that moved his entire body naturally in their trail.  He was touching his dream, he realized for the first time; he was holding it in his hands, and he had the power to keep it.

He could do this.

There had been two things he had been passionate about, that being Yuki and music.  Now one was gone, and he was free to devote his entire attention to the other, to the one that wouldn't desert him.  And suddenly Yuki's disappearance was a trivial thing needed to open the way to his real future.  Yuki had known that, and that was why he had left.  The whole time, Yuki had been thinking about him.

Shuichi closed his eyes and widen his mouth, letting a note fill the gaps of air around the hall.  Tears pricked at his eyes, but he forced his lips into a smile as he sang to keep them from falling.

He had once told Yuki that change was a good thing, that it brought about new and better things, like when winter changes to spring.  Yuki had glared at him and told him to go to hell, but he had been listening after all.  And now Shuichi couldn't take his own advice.

He was on a different song now.  He couldn't remember when that had happened, but he was singing along with the music, and the lyrics were working together.  He pushed the microphone closer to his mouth and ran a hand through his slick, pink strands of hair, causing a few wisps to fall into his eyes and blur his vision.  Or maybe it was the tears that were still threatening to fall that were blurring it.

He loved Yuki.  He loved the feel of Yuki's skin pressed against his own and the dry, dead smell that clung to Yuki and the taste of cigarettes in Yuki's mouth.  He loved the insults shouted angrily at him, or the soft voice that whispered affectionately to him in the night when it thought he was asleep.  And he loved those eyes that were always glaring and covered with hate on the surface, those eyes that were trying to break him but at the same time were keeping him together.  He couldn't deny it anymore, and he couldn't hope to get better.  Yuki would always be there, in his mind, whether he wanted him to be or not.

And he could keep on moving forward.  He could do this.  He knew he could.

The concert was over, and he moved to the side of the stage, Fujisaki and Hiro in front of him, looking straight ahead and holding out his hand.  He ran along the front edge, following his band members and allowing the audience to touch his hand, a certain treat that he was told to give to them tonight.  He could feel every one of the hands touching him back, trying to grab him and hold onto him, but he always managed to break free.  He was almost halfway down the stage when a strong, rough grip encircled his wrist and pulled him back, breaking his stride.  He could feel something like desperation hidden within the grip, as if the owner of the hand urgently needed his help.  Curiously, he gazed down into the crowd of darkened faces, and immediately picked out the one he was searching for; it seemed to glow white among the others, accented by glistening yellow strands that brightly reflected the stage lights.

"Yu…" Shuichi whispered, though he was unable to finish the word.  His eyes caught the gaze that he had been thinking about only moments before, and suddenly the sounds of the hall and the screams of the audience muted, and all he could hear was the rapping of his heart in his chest.  His body went cold and numb, and all he could feel was the tight hand around his wrist.

He was a mirror, and Yuki was standing before him, but he wasn't glaring like Shuichi had thought; his eyes were full of concern and apology and sorrow.  Yuki had finally seen the crack, and had stopped glaring.  And Shuichi suddenly realized just how much he had depended on Yuki's glare to hold him upright.  He could hear the world shattering around him, and his own body crashing to the ground as the crack widened and cursed through him like blood, but he could only stare at the person who had caused everything, who had caused him to crack and then to shatter.  He stared at Yuki until his vision shattered as well and turned into nothingness, and he could feel himself falling forward, into the void that had once been the world before it shattered.  He felt like he was going to fall forever through the vacuum, but rather two arms enveloped him, dragging him to an abrupt halt, and held onto him tightly until they too shattered, throwing him completely into the darkness.

========

Notes:  Thank you everyone who read this story!

Until next time,

Cassi


	5. Visitor

*Note: Sorry for all the confusion caused by my idiocy in wording sentences…  This story is not over…  You see, when I said, "Thank you everyone who read this story," I meant, "Thank you everyone who is reading this story…"  Yeah.  So, I'll go sit in a corner and chew on a pair of scissors now. Je Suis Désolé 

**Chapter 4**

Shuichi wasn't sure how long he had been out cold for, but it couldn't have been a long time, considering that when he awoke, he was still in the concert hall.  Several security guards were fighting to hold back worried fan girls as they pushed forward, calling out his name and trying to see if he was all right.  He had been dragged back onto the stage, and Hiro and Fujisaki and K were hovering over him, all of whom released a collective sigh of relief when his eyes opened.  He could see Yuki off to the side, struggling against a security guard, presumably trying to convince the guard that he did indeed know Shuichi.

Shuichi watched all of this with a strangely detached attitude; he felt as though the occurrences around him were so unimportant that he just didn't bother to care.  He managed to lazily push himself into a sitting position and stared, ignoring the questions issuing from his band mates, at the blond haired man that barely looked familiar anymore.  The security guard restraining him glanced at Shuichi, and upon noting that he had regained consciousness, proceeded to roughly drag Yuki over, an irritated frown across his face.

Shuichi stared with a distant gaze, absentmindedly following the golden eyes that peaked out from beneath the yellow strands as he approached.  There was something pathetic in those eyes, a want or need that was requesting something of him, and Shuichi found himself becoming repulsed.  The man he looked upon was not Yuki, could not be Yuki; Yuki was much more beautiful than this, and if this man before him was once Yuki, then he had changed and was no longer.  What Shuichi remembered as being something close to a god or an angel now looked no better than a normal human, attractive, but human all the same, if he was even good enough to be classified as that.  If this man had indeed once been the Yuki that he had loved, than he had definitely changed for the worse.

Or maybe it was Shuichi himself who had changed.  It had been over a year since he had seen so much as a picture of his beloved, since he had never been able to even bring himself to look at the photos printed on the back of his novels, and Shuichi realized with heavy disappointment that he had probably turned Yuki's image in his mind over and over again until it barely resembled what really was.  Maybe Yuki was just the same as he had always been, and it was Shuichi's own memories that were in fact warped.

"Shuichi…"  The name escaped the lips of the novelist with a breathy, singsong air about it, and Shuichi's ears automatically perked.  How long had it been since he had heard that voice utter his name?  That would have been even longer since he had last seen his lover, due to the latter's strange reluctance to use it.  Immediately Shuichi's heart began to flutter involuntary, but it ceased when Shuichi caught Yuki's gaze, which once again reminded him of reality.  Shuichi stared, impervious to his surroundings, at the pleading stare that bore into him and violated him.  Yuki was asking him for something, though Shuichi didn't care to figure out what that was.  Instead, an intense rancor encompassed his body and seethed within him, and his gaze turned into a glare, shining and driven with anger, angled directly towards the golden eyes that had betrayed him.

"How dare you?" Shuichi hissed, turning away and marching backstage as soon as the words escaped his mouth because he knew he couldn't stand to see the look of hurt he was sure would cross Yuki's face and flood his eyes.  He couldn't stand to see the expression he caused to be on his lover's face, one that he knew his lover had caused to be on his face countless times in the past, because he knew it would only make his anger flare.

He heard several voices call after him as he stormed off the stage, though not one of them belonged to Yuki, and for that he was thankful.  A flicker of hope stirred in his heart, and for once he thought that, just maybe, there might still be a chance.

========

Seguchi Tohma loosened his hands on the steering wheel as his car approached the straight road, and he allowed his eyes to drift to the side, where they settled on his younger brother-in-law, who currently looked as though he was about to pass out.  His arms were folded tightly over his chest, one elbow resting against the door so that his raised shoulder made a substitute pillow for his head, and his legs crossed over the dashboard, the bottom of his shoe pressed against the windshield.  Normally, Tohma would have protested not only against the dirtying of the glass, but also of Eiri's utterly awful posture, though considering the circumstance, he decided to stay quiet.

However, he couldn't help but worry, since Eiri's face seemed completely placid, and he hadn't said a word at all to Tohma.  Tohma had been expecting Eiri to scream and scowl and throw a fit like usual when Tohma's plans weren't to the best of his liking, but rather Eiri wore a distant expression, one that dictated that Eiri was trying to decide about something, and Tohma knew just what that something was: whether or not to pursue Shindou.

"Don't give up, Eiri-san," Tohma said with a bit of reluctance; Eiri still seemed to be in a rather unpredictable mood, and Tohma didn't want to set him off while in a moving car.  "I'm sure Shindou-san was just a bit confused by your sudden appearance."

There was a long, dead silence in which Tohma found himself automatically tuning in to the engine's soft hum due to Eiri's lack of response.  He glanced over at Eiri, and upon finding that the golden eyes, though barely, were still open, he concluded that Eiri was indeed still awake.  

"Are you going to be returning to America?" Tohma asked quietly, and waited patiently for a response, though once again was only greeted by a heavy silence.  

Tohma let out a sigh as he pulled the car up the long, curving driveway to his largely lavished mansion.  He turned off the engine and then leaned backwards, allowing his body to relax deep into the black velvet seats.  Slowly he turned his head towards Eiri's direction, though Eiri hadn't made any change to his position or expression at all; Tohma began to wonder if he noticed the car had even stopped.  Leaning forward on the edge of his seat once again, Tohma slowly slid his arm forward and softly stroked Eiri defined cheekbone with his gloved hand.  He smiled gently when Eiri blinked and looked at his hand, though the smile faded when Eiri proceeded to close his eyes completely with a pathetic sigh.

"Eiri-san…" Tohma whispered, allowing the concern to filter through his voice.  "Don't worry, everything will be better soon."

Eiri's eyelashes fluttered at his words, and his golden irises once again came to view, though they were not looking at anything, but were rather aimed in an unimportant direction near the floor.

"I'm such an idiot."  The words were so soft that Tohma wasn't sure if he had actually heard them at all at first, though upon deciding that they were in fact spoken, he smiled a reassuring smile even though Eiri wasn't even looking at him.

"Shindou's just a little shaken, Eiri-san," Tohma assured him.  "He'll come around."

"You didn't see his eyes," came the response that, although still very soft, was immediate.  "I've never seen him look like that before."

"Like I said, he was probably just confused.  He's been going through a lot lately, and he is probably looking at you as only another burden.  But it will pass, Eiri-san.  Now come on, we should be getting inside," Tohma said, opening the car door.  He looked back at Eiri who, other than the draft rustling his golden yellow strands, had yet to move.  "Eiri-san, please."

Eiri stirred at last, lifting his head, followed by his body as he lethargically removed himself from the car.  Tohma led him silently towards the house, opening the door for him and following him inside, though he paused at the entranceway.

"You should probably rest.  You look a little worse for the wear," Tohma called ahead at Eiri's retreating figure as he slipped the black jacket from his shoulders.  "We have a few extra beds upstairs—"  He was interrupted by the sound of creaking leather, which he knew was coming from the couch in the living room.  A small, amused smile touched his lips.  "Or you can sleep on the couch, if you want."

Tohma finished hanging up his jacket on the hook in the closet, and then trailed his brother-in-law into the living room where he found the said man already curled up in the leather, his arms wrapped around himself in something that resembled a fetal position.  Any trace of humor Tohma had left vanished upon seeing such a sight, and he sigh heavily.

"Eiri-san," he whispered, "are you asleep?"

Upon receiving no response, Tohma decided that Eiri was at least in a state similar enough to sleep to be considered such.  He slowly pulled the blanket that was draped across the back of the couch over Eiri's tense frame and knelt beside him, brushing a few bangs out of his face with a long finger.

"It will get better," he reassured in a whisper once more before standing and trudging away from the living room, pretending not to hear the sound of muffled sobs that followed him out.

========

Fujisaki Suguru gently set the mugs of coffee onto the table, the china rattling slightly as they contacted the table.  He then lifted his eyes to his visitor, still slightly surprised that he even had a visitor at all, much less this particular person.  It was unusual for anyone to come over, especially since Suguru was lacking in the friends department, which wasn't abnormal considering that he spent all of his free time at NG Studios, where he was the youngest employee by about three years.  Not only that, but the rest of his time was located at school, where he had no time for friends because he always had to spend every single free moment studying and making up lost time at NG.

"Did you get into a fight with Nakano-san, or something?" Suguru asked carefully as Shuichi reached out for a mug.  He barely managed to hold in an exasperated sigh when Shuichi sluggishly shook his head.  Suguru knelt down on the ground and leaned back onto his heels, rocking back and forth slightly as he studied this visitor.

It wasn't that he disliked Shuichi, or something like that; sure, Shuichi could be annoying at times, but he was nice and had an interesting personality, so Suguru rather found himself more drawn towards Shuichi than anything.  It was just that Shuichi's sudden arrival at his doorstep, looking very haggard and worse for the wear, had surprised him.  He had gotten used to it being Shindou and Nakano, with Fujisaki as the third wheel; Shuichi always ran to Nakano to whine about all his problems.  Suguru found that as a double-edged sword—on one hand, he was glad that he didn't have to put up with Shuichi's whining at any place other than work, but on the other, he felt just a twinge of jealousy of both Shuichi and Nakano.  They were the best of friends, and he was just their bandmate.

Thus said, Suguru had almost thought himself hallucinating when he opened the door and found Shuichi there, looking worse than he had after he stormed out of the concert.  He hadn't even thought that Shuichi knew where he lived; he was thankful that his parents were gone at the moment, since he didn't really feel the need to have to explain to them not only the situation, but also deal with introducing Shuichi to them in his present state.  He doubted that would leave a good impression, especially since his parents had been against him going into the music business in the first place, saying that it would interfere with his grades and studying, and had only managed it due to the fact that his cousin was the all-powerful Seguchi Tohma.

Suguru paused, taking a sip from his own mug, as he raked through his mind trying to think of something to say without offending Shuichi.  Frankly, he had no idea what Shuichi's problem was, and why he had come here instead of to Nakano for help, and because of that it was very difficult to phrase his sentences.  He knew Shuichi wasn't about to spill anytime soon, and therefore in order to get Shuichi out of his home before his parents returned, he would have to dig around until he could figure out what was bothering him.  Of course, Suguru had already guessed that it had something to do with Yuki, but that still didn't explain why Shuichi came to him of all people.

"If you're getting along with Nakano-san," Suguru said softly, "then why did you come to me?"  As soon as he finished the question, he knew he had said something wrong; a look of hurt flashed in Shuichi's previously dull eyes, and his fingers tightened around his mug so that their edges turned white, though he did not say anything.

Suguru sighed.  Of course Shuichi and Nakano had had a fight; Shuichi had probably just been lying.  Otherwise, Shuichi would definitely be over there instead.  Suguru lowered his eyes to the mug again.  

Okay, that was it.  No more beating around the bush.  He would have to just straight out ask Shuichi, or else he would get nowhere.

"Does this have to do with Yuki-san?"

Shuichi let out a sigh as he lifted the cup to his lips, though he did not drink at all before lowering it again and setting it onto the table.  There was a long pause before he spoke.

"I'm sorry," he said, he voice so soft that Suguru could barely recognize it as his, since it contrasted so greatly with his usual high-pitched whine.  "I shouldn't have come here.  I don't know why I did."  With that, he stood up to leave, though Suguru jumped to his feet and stepped in his way just quickly enough.

"No, stay!" Suguru commanded, lifting his palms in front of him in a gesture to stop.  "I think you need to, Shindou-san.  I don't mind you here."

Shuichi paused again, shifting his weight from foot to foot, before he finally gave in and sat back down on the couch.  Suguru, after deciding that Shuichi wasn't going to bolt anymore, fell into the chair adjacent to the sofa and relaxed into it, as he concluded that this was definitely more trouble than it was worth.

"Tell me what's the matter," Suguru said, looking over at Shuichi, who had once again resumed his former position exactly, right down to the way he tensely sat at the edge of couch and clutched onto this coffee mug.  "Please."

Shuichi blinked at his reflection in the dark liquid, admiring the way it warped when he swung the mug around and disturbed the coffee.  "I've waited so long for something like this to happen—so long that I had stopped waiting—and everything ended up being wrong."  Suguru watched Shuichi as he desperately tried to blink back his tears, but still had no power against their gathering at the bottom of his eyelids.  "Yuki…he wasn't what I remembered…"

"So he's changed, Shindou-san.  Did you expect him not to, even in a year of absence?" Suguru asked rhetorically, trying not to sound rude and watching Shuichi closely for any sign of a change, though Shuichi remained in his emotional daze.  "If Yuki-san wants you back, you should at least give it a try.  Even if he's a little different, I'm sure it's not that important and you'll fall in love with him again."

Shuichi's eyes widened, and his face turned into a mask of anger, frightening Suguru into thinking he had said something offensive again.  "I-I do not want to fall in love with him…with that man!  Not ever!"

"Surely you don't mean that—"

"Of course I do!" Shuichi cried, jumping to his feet with tears falling freely from his eyes and running down his cheeks at an amazing speed.  "I don't want to…to ever…see him again—" he added in a voice considerably weaker than the last, the last word being cut off by a choked gasp, signaling the beginning of his sobs.

"If that's true, Shindou-san, then why are you crying?" Suguru asked, slowly rising to his feet and approaching Shuichi.  He softly laid his hand on the singer's shoulder in an attempt to offer as much comfort as he was willing to give.  "Are you trying to convince me, or yourself?"

Shuichi's eyes widened, his irises contracting to the size of the point of a needle, and his breath stopped all together.  He stood there for what seemed like an eternity, standing completely still other than the trembling of his hands, before narrowing his eyes once more into an angry glare.  Without a word, he shoved Suguru to the side, knocking him into the couch, and stormed out the door, barely stopping to slip on his shoes.  

Suguru stood up and ran to the door, peering outside, though Shuichi had already disappeared.  He let out an agitated sigh as he closed the door and proceeded to clear the table of the coffee mugs.

That certainly hadn't gone as well as he had hoped.  But then, judging by Shuichi's reaction, perhaps he had said something that caused him to have a revelation of some sort, and if that were the case, maybe Shuichi would be over this sometime soon so that Bad Luck could continue on unhindered once again.  Of course, taking into consideration that Shuichi was their lead singer, that may be wishful thinking.

========

Notes:  More notes!  Uhrm, all that stuff I said about Suguru's parents, those were merely assumptions, or actually more like things that I just randomly pulled out of my own head, and are not based on either the manga or the anime.  I don't think there's really anything about Suguru's immediate family in the anime, and I haven't read that far in the manga, so…yeah…what was I saying?

Anyway, I can't even type "Suguru."  Every single time, I keep typing in "Sguuru."  Yeah…

Until next time,

Cassi.


	6. Airport

Je Suis Désolé 

**Chapter 5**

Hiro stared into the violet eyes that gazed painfully back at him, pleading him for something, though Hiro had neither the will nor the strength to humble himself enough to ask.  At that moment, he could see a small flicker of light within the deep irises before him.  He realized with a joyous revelation that he had not seen such a thing in over a year, and he knew the reason behind its sudden reappearance.

It had left a year ago, stolen carelessly by a stoic novelist who had become so used to it he had not even realized that he had taken it at all.  And now that that novelist had returned, so did the light.  It was a light that brought depth and life into the violet eyes of his friend.  It was what he had been searching for and trying to restore this whole time; this beauty that he had known lay with the novelist, but all the same tried to bring it back himself.

Shuichi had been upset about Yuki's appearance at the concert; his loss of consciousness was more than a valid testament to that.  Seeing Shuichi's eyes after the concert had frightened Hiro more than anything; they had looked broken and dead, like an old tree that had endured too many winters and just fell against the last gruesome storm.  All the concern he had felt for his friend in the previous slow year had climaxed at that sight, and Hiro had resigned himself to grief, since Shuichi had become as good as dead to him.

And yet, here Shuichi was, with the light back in his eyes again.  Hiro couldn't say whether the light had rekindled on Shuichi's own behalf, or on the advice of another, but that was a trivial matter anyway; what mattered was that Shuichi was back, a little worse for the wear but still alive nonetheless.

Hiro stared into the eyes, admiring the deep-rooted beauty that was now partially obscured within them, but he noticed a slight fear that pulsed through them.  It was a reluctance of some kind, something that Shuichi was either dreading or regretting, and Hiro knew it had to do with him; otherwise, he knew Shuichi wouldn't be here, at his apartment with looks to confront him, at all.  Still, Shuichi had yet to say anything, due to the awkward fear that coursed through him.  Hiro could see him trying vainly to hide his trembling hands in his peripheral vision, and upon seeing that Hiro realized that it might possibly be the fact that he was staring straight into his eyes that made his friend so afraid.  But to hell with breaking the gaze, since Hiro reasoned after everything that had happened, this was his last chance to see the beauty he had found so long ago in his friend.

"Hiroshi…" the name hit his ears with a painful ring; in all the time he had known Shuichi, even those first few days when they had just been casual acquaintances, he had not once been called by his full first name.  It had always been Hiro, and Hiro hated to be called otherwise.

He tried his best to put on a convincing smile, one that mimicked his usual lazy grin, though he doubted it was fooling Shuichi anyway.  Either way, it didn't matter; Shuichi knew how he felt whether he put a happy face on it or not.  "Shuichi," he sang, drawing out the 'u' longer than normal.

"I wanted…to see…what you, what you thought about—"  Hiro stared at Shuichi's face as he faltered around through his sentences with his eyes nervously downcast towards the floor.  He took a long pause, allowing his last attempt at a sentence to die away before he started again.  "You saw that he…that Yuki came back…"

"Who could have missed it?" Hiro retorted, sounding a little less pleasant than he had intended, but decided against taking back his words with an apology.

"I was wondering," Shuichi said, his voice dropping into a mere whisper as a soft blush spread across his cheeks, "what you thought about it, after…after everything that happened between…us…"

Hiro knew that Shuichi was trying to be blunt, and despite the fact that he didn't even mention exactly what he was referring to, the sharpness of his meaning stung into Hiro.  He finally lowered his gaze from Shuichi's eyes and instead let it settle on his own hands, which had begun to tremble along with Shuichi's.  He let a long silence pass by before he gave his reply, "What happened between us, Shuichi, is just one friend taking advantage of another's pain."  His own bluntness, he knew, hurt much more than anything Shuichi could manage to say.  "And if Yuki doesn't accept that as a reasonable excuse, then he doesn't deserve to look at you."

Another long silence fell upon the two, during which Hiro finally gathered the courage to look back up to his friend, whom had now closed his eyes, hiding only partially a worried frown that marred his face.  Hiro wanted to say something, but nothing came to his tongue, and he remained awkwardly silent, waiting for something to happen.  At last, Shuichi let out a sad sigh and opened his eyes.

"Will you…will you still be my friend, Hiro?"

"Of course," Hiro replied quickly, though his voice was laden with doubt because he knew something that Shuichi was too innocent to imagine, or at least too innocent to admit.  He knew that what had happened between them, no matter how much they tried to belittle it, would always remain there in their minds, and no matter how much they tried to forget, to push it back into the far reaches of their minds, would come floating back into memory whenever they saw one another.  No, their friendship could never be the same again; they had knowingly crossed the point in which there was no turning back, and now, even though they both wanted to so much, there _was_ no turning back…not ever.  And Hiro realized painfully that he no longer had any best friend; there were many friends, he was sure, but what he had shared with Shuichi had vanished from trace, could not be restored and would never come back, not like Yuki had.

Hiro wondered how long it would take Shuichi to realize all this, and what Shuichi would do when he realized such.  Hiro had been a bad friend, he knew.  In all his promises to protect Shuichi, he could not protect him from his own betrayal, even though he knew that was what hurt the most.  Shuichi deserved to have a best friend, a good best friend, and so perhaps this was for the best; maybe now, Shuichi would be free to find someone more worthy.

"Are you going back to Yuki now?" Hiro uttered before he could stop himself; he hadn't even realized he had been thinking about it at all.  It seemed as though the question had just spontaneously issued forth unbidden from the depths of his mind, escaping before he had a chance to counter it.  He dared not look at Shuichi because he knew that he would find the answer on his friend's face, and no matter what words were uttered out of his mouth, Hiro knew that the answer was definitely affirmative.

Shuichi still had yet to answer, prolonging Hiro's pain, and in his mind he could hear his own venomous thoughts, that screamed out at him so loudly he was surprised that Shuichi couldn't hear.

Why?  Why would you ever return to that bastard?  He abandoned you, and now that he's decided that maybe his life was a little more exciting with you in it, are you really going to go running back into his arms without any doubts?

But it was such a mute point, Hiro didn't see the need to vocalize it.  He knew Shuichi would go back to Yuki because that was just how Shuichi was.  He would surely forgive anything that someone he loved did against him without fail.

"I know what you must be thinking," Shuichi's soft voice interrupted his thoughts.  "And I will go back to him, always.  Because I love him and I forgive him."

With that, Shuichi turned and made his way to the front door.  Hiro listened to the clanking of the handle as Shuichi opened it and made his way out, but the expected shutting of the door didn't come.  Instead, Hiro was greeted by Shuichi's voice once again.

"And…  I forgive you, Hiro." There was a pause in which the silence pounded shrilly against Hiro's ears.  "I can forget what happened.  We can be the same as before, if you can forget too."

A low click of the door signaled Shuichi's departure, leaving Hiro alone to ponder his last words in silence.

========

Shuichi jogged through the hallways of NG, stopping not even to catch his breath.  He stumbled more than a few times, but refused to let his clumsiness to overcome him.  He had a chance now for things to be the way they were again, and he would not allow it to pass him by.

Upon reaching his destination, Shuichi skidded to a stop, placing his hands on the polished wooden desk to ensure he would not lose his balance.  He glared into the dark eyes of the woman who sat there, staring fearfully back at him, her fingers still hovering over the keys of her keyboard as if her whole body had frozen completely when Shuichi had appeared.  Shuichi's shoulders were heaving from the previous dash up countless flights of stairs to arrive here, but he did not dare to take the time to catch his breath before speaking.  His subconscious was active with an urgency that only it knew the reason for, but Shuichi had learned a long time ago to trust it nonetheless.

"I…need…to…speak…with…Seguchi-san," he spat out between breaths, not even blinking once to relieve the secretary of his intense glare.

"U-uh, I'm sorry, Shindou-san, but he left just a few minutes ago," the woman stuttered slightly, now seeming more confused than afraid.

"Where did he go?" Shuichi demanded, his glare falling into a disappointed, worried frown.

"Well, he told me that he was returning home because he needed to drive a family member to the airport," the secretary answered with a smile.

Shuichi could feel the color drain out of his face, and he did not bother to close his gaping mouth.  He was too late…  He had missed his chance.  It was all over now…

Shuichi's face turned into a determined frown.  No, he still had time left.  Yuki wasn't completely gone yet.  He just had to make it to Seguchi's house before they left, and all would be well and good again.

Without taking the time to thank the secretary, Shuichi dashed onward again, shoving open the stairwell doors and hopping over the railing, skipping entire flights of stairs at a time and ignoring the dull pain that was beginning to gather in his knees with each time he landed.  He made it down to the bottom floor in record time and flew outside the studio where a mass of people and automobiles rushed by at an alarming pace.  He sprinted to the edge of the sidewalk and held up his hand, waving desperately and spastically for a taxi…any taxi…just hurry…

Shuichi watched as an array of taxis pulled up along the sidewalk, allowing in other passengers that had been waiting along the edge of the sidewalk just as he had.  The seething impatience inside him was growing to impossible levels, and he could barely contain himself.  He couldn't stand it; he could see the only way to get a taxi would be to throw himself in front of one.

Preparing himself for the leap, Shuichi only prayed that it wouldn't hurt too much.  He bent his knees, watching for just the right moment, when a strong hand yanked him back onto the safe pavement of the sidewalk.

"I seriously hope you weren't planning on doing what it looked like you were planning on doing," came a familiar voice, and Shuichi looked up to find his long time friend smiling down at him.  Shuichi looked up at him quizzically, a touch of awkwardness encompassing him once again.

"Hiro, what are you doing here?" he questioned just loudly enough to be heard over the hubbub of the daytime street.

"I work here you idiot," Hiro retorted.  His smile faded after he finished the sentence, however, and he looked down at Shuichi with a deadly serious expression.  "I heard Yuki's leaving again, and I figured you'd need a ride."

"Hiro…?" Shuichi whispered.

"If I can get you to the airport in time, I promise I'll forget all our transgressions against each other, and we'll be the way we used to be, okay?" Hiro proposed, the smile once again returning to his lips.

Shuichi's face lit up as he lunged forward, swinging his arms around his best friend.  "Thank you, thank you, thank you…"  He couldn't be sure how many times he had repeated the phrase, but he knew no matter what the number was, it wasn't enough to fully express his gratitude.

"Okay, then!" Hiro exclaimed, dragging Shuichi forward towards his bike, which was currently parked on the side of the street.  "To the airport."

"No," Shuichi said as he threw on the extra helmet.  "To Seguchi's house.  We have to find out which plane he's taking."

"Forget it," Hiro said as the two jumped on the bike.  "That wastes too much time.  Don't worry, Seguchi's secretary rushed in a few seconds after you took off and told me everything.  I know where to go."  And with that, he took off, ending any further possible conversation with the load roar of a speeding motorcycle.

========

_I'm sorry, Yuki…  Please, please wait for me!_

The terminals of the airport were rushing by so fast that he couldn't read their signs, though it didn't matter.  He knew where he was going, but he had an ominous feeling that he was late, and that feeling was causing him a great deal of anxiety that flooded his veins and only made him run faster.  But the faster he went, the later he felt he became.

When he was a little kid of about two or three years old, he had had a dog.  It wasn't anything special, just some family dog that was there for the sake of having something cute to pet when things got a little lonely.  Three black spots had destroyed the pure white beauty of its coat, making it into some ugly mutt that they had picked out of the pound because it was cheap.  But the dog was loved nonetheless, always receiving an unending shower of attention.  That is, until his little sister was born, and suddenly the new baby was much cuter than some useless mutt.  The dog had gotten jealous, and it had started to bite.

They had taken it to the vet, to get its new problem 'fixed,' as his parents had told him.  And he could remember the way the dog looked when they dragged it into the back room of the vet's office, still snarling and as mean as ever, but something else was hidden within its eyes; there was fear there, fear as strong as in a human.  Because the dog had known it, Shuichi had known it also; he pretended to believe his parents when they told him the dog was all right and had been sent to work on a farm, where its toughness was put to much better use, but he knew better.  He knew the dog was dead.

He knew that, just as now he knew that he was too late.  He couldn't prove it, but it was there, in his mind.  

He was too late.

Shuichi grabbed the wall to stop himself from rolling over as he swung around the corner into the terminal to which Hiro had directed him, and skidded to a stop, the traction in his sneakers failing completely and allowing him to slide into a perfect position right next to the gate.  He paled when he saw his suspicions confirmed; all the passengers had already boarded the plane, and the flight attendants were preparing to close it entirely.  Shuichi rushed forward, yelling at them incoherently, and stopping their doings for a moment.

"May I help you, sir?" one of them asked once Shuichi had taken a pause for breath.  Shuichi lifted his eyebrows into a pathetic position as stared pleadingly at the attendants.

"Please, I need to see someone on that plane…  Just let me on, it'll be only a minute," he said, surprised at the fluency with which the words poured from his mouth.

"I'm sorry, sir, but the plane is already taking off.  I'm sorry, but you've just missed it," the attendant said kindly, though with those words she managed to rip at Shuichi heart, sending a wave of nausea that was so intense Shuichi actually felt as though he was about to pass out.  Without even being able to scream out, even though he desired to do so more than anything, Shuichi stood up and ran to the window, gazing out at the huge silver plane that had already been detached from the gate and was slowly rolling off in the direction of the runway.

"No…" Shuichi whispered, banging on the glass with a weak fist.  "No, Yuki, why couldn't you wait?  Just a little, Yuki…"

Tears began to flood his eyes, blurring the sight of the silver plane slowly lifting off the ground and angling up into the vast blue sky.  Shuichi for once desperately tried to hold back the tears, tears that were heavier and much more important than any he had ever experienced before.  These were tears of grief, the same grief felt for losing a loved one, the same grief he had felt when they had dragged that dog off to die, because Shuichi knew he had missed his last chance.  It had been left up to him to fix—Yuki had done everything he could—but he had blown it.  Yuki had been the one to cause the mess, but Shuichi had let the chance to fix it pass him by, as if it were carried past him by the wind, and he had waited just a little to long to reach out and grab it.  And now Yuki was gone again.

The plane was merely a gray dot in the sky by the time Shuichi's vision cleared again.  He sniffed a few times as he stared at it, as if trying to will it to turn around and come back to the airport, but it never did, it never would, and Shuichi knew that.  He stood there until the plane had practically disappeared in the distance, blending with the blue until it became part of the sky.  He bowed his head in one last parting farewell, a defeated gesture in which he was not sure he would be able to come out of.  Perhaps he would just remain in the position until he collapsed and died.

He let out a sigh and managed to lift his head again, suddenly becoming aware of his surroundings again: the glare on the glass window, the pain in his hands where the edge of the windowsill was digging into them, and the curious feeling that he was being watched.  Swinging around, his gaze settled onto a familiar blonde who was gracefully seated quite comfortably in the hard waiting benches of the terminal.  His hands were delicately folded over his crossed legs, and he stared at Shuichi expectantly, patiently, waiting for Shuichi to do something.

"W-why are you still here?" Shuichi asked, his voice cracking slightly.

"You're late, Shindou-san," he replied, his voice a little too fluid and silvery to fit the mood.  "You're late for work every single day, but I would expect you to be on time at least for something as important as this.  But then, I guess you wouldn't be you if you weren't."  A gentle smile touched his thin lips upon those words.

Shuichi's body stiffened, and he had to grab hold of the windowsill to keep himself from falling.  "Seguchi…san…"

"We were all surprised when you didn't chase after him like all the other times, Shindou-san," Tohma continued, his smile never slipping from his face.  "Eiri-san himself especially.  He told me not to tell anyone, but I think you should know that he went to New York in particular because he knew you'd be able to find him there.  He wanted you to chase after him."

Even when he had become old enough so that his parents wouldn't lie to him anymore, Shuichi had never asked them what really happened to the dog.  Even though he knew the truth, to ask them would bring finality to the subject.  But he didn't ask them because at that moment, when he had seen the fear in the dog's eyes, he had pitied it.  Even though he had hated that dog, had been afraid of that dog, he had pitied it.  He hadn't wanted the finality of being certain of the truth.

Tohma's eyes were glittering with a knowing light, a light that was mocking him.  "He was counting on your appearance like all the other times.  It hurt him when you didn't come."

Shuichi didn't bother to change his expression.  His eyes were so wide that they were beginning to sting, but he couldn't move.

"I hate to think of what he'll do if you don't come this time…"

"What are you saying?" Shuichi finally managed to squeak out.

Tohma's smile changed into a mocking smirk as he held up two thick strips of paper in his hand.  "It would have been a lot cheaper if you had made it on time, Shindou-san.  You are coming, aren't you?"

Shuichi focused on the two strips, his eyes lightening with extreme gratitude.  Plane tickets.  He pulled his mouth forward, barely able to form the words.  "Why…how…?"

Tohma let out a cultured chuckle.  "You're just the same as him, Shindou-san.  You're both as easy to read as a book.  I knew this would happen from the very first moment I dragged him back here, so I decided to save some time and buy the tickets in advance.  Now, I'll ask you again.  You are coming, right?"

Shuichi didn't hesitate to nod, rushing forward and snatching a ticket out of Tohma's hand as if he were afraid Tohma would take them away if he weren't quick enough.  Tohma chuckled once again, a generous smile gracing his expression.

Shuichi didn't want to the finality of knowing that the dog was dead, but he knew he needed it with Yuki.  He needed to know whether or not he'd ever be with Yuki again.  He needed to know whether there was a point in hoping.  He needed it this time, because unlike the dog, he cared about Yuki.  He cared so much it was painful, and he needed to know.

========

Notes:  Okiiii, it's rolling down to a close here soon…  Yup.  So, see y'all!  Laterz.

Until next time,

Cassi.


	7. Scar

Je Suis Désolé 

**Chapter 6**

Shuichi's hand clutched the worn piece of paper.  Its presence in his pocket had been so frequent over the last year that he had actually just become used to it, feeling slightly uncomfortable and naked when it was absent, but otherwise he had come to hardly notice its presence at all.

Now, though, he was so nervous that his hand closed around it so tightly that it put thick new creases among the scars of the old ones.  Frankly, he was glad he had brought it with.

You'll be happier this way. 

"No, I won't be happier.  But you'll be happier, and I'll let you enjoy that."

The edges were torn and ripped, making it look jagged and abused.  The bright, clean, white color had faded into a dull yellow.  The fibers had begun to split, making each one defined in a darker shade of brown against the yellow backdrop, and had also made the paper so brittle that a straight tear halfway down the middle had magically appeared one day.

But the ink remained black as ever, and the words, written in the elegant hand, only became more noticeable over time.  He had long since memorized what it said.

_Please forget about me._

Its presence in his pocket reminded him day after day.  It served as a testament that he wouldn't forget, even after the paper crumbled and turned to dust.

"I'm sorry."

Despite what Tohma said, what everyone said, he couldn't see how Yuki could want him anymore.  Not after the way he had acted.

Leaving him without a goodbye.  Always yelling, always glaring, never waiting.

Never loving.

"I'm sorry."

But no matter what, Yuki would always be a part of him, and Shuichi wouldn't let it go.  He couldn't; it would break him, shatter him, if he ever did.

Yuki had enough arrogance for the both of them, but Shuichi decided that just once, he would be the one to be selfish and hurtful.  He would reclaim Yuki as his own.  He would be the one to be happy this time.

_I'm leaving now, and I won't return.  For you._

"I'm sorry, Yuki.  I'm sorry."  For me…  Return for me…

It was just a matter of time before he would see Yuki again, and he knew that he would do anything to get the novelist to return.  He would try anything, subject himself to anything, if it would get the novelist back.

He could see bright flashes in his mind, shards of glass reflecting light so brightly that he was blinded.  And there was blood slowly crawling down his own hand, a river of red flowing from his own knuckles, infecting his other hand with its red trail.  The blood escaping from inside to out, spreading over his skin, engulfing him in a warm liquid fire, before it continued on to the silver shards of glass, dyeing them red.  And he was crying so hard that he couldn't believe he was still able to survive—he should have suffocated already—as he waited for the blond novelist to rush inside and pull him into a loving embrace and tend to his ripped hand and his broken mirror.

He had waited so long, but the cuts never healed themselves, so he had decided to venture out himself, to find the one who would fix his wounds…and his broken mirror.

I'm sorry, but this is… 

He was gripping the piece of paper so tightly that his knuckles hurt.  Tohma was walking in front of him, leading him up the walkway towards a large house, blanketed with a silver glaze and surrounded by a lawn so green it looked otherworldly.  The American sun beat down on him relentlessly despite the presence of clouds.  Fear ebbed through him so thickly that it blocked all of his senses, making him feel strangely detached from the world but forced to walk through it all the same.

This was where Yuki lived.

Tohma's white hand moved so slowly up towards the doorbell that Shuichi felt the need to order him to hurry up, but he had already completed the task before Shuichi could even open his mouth.

_Goodbye._

The door swung open, seeming as though it was angry with the interruption, though immediately a handsome pale face poked out, its perfect irritated expression marred only by the appearance of dried tears down his cheeks.  Shuichi watched, his eyes so wide with fear that he couldn't blink, as the golden gaze traveled from Tohma to himself and lingered there, emotionless, for what seemed like forever.

_I'm sorry._

"I'm sorry," Shuichi's voice hit his own ears with a painful sting.  "I'm sorry…"

He heard Tohma inhale sharply, though Yuki remained silent, motionless, just watching.

"I'm sorry, but…  I can't accept this," Shuichi finished as he yanked his hand out of his pocket, still holding on to the scarred paper.  He extended his arm in front of his bowed head, towards Yuki, and waited until he felt someone tug the note out of his hand.  He slowly lifted his eyes and watched as Yuki gently unfolded it and stared at it, his eyes widening slightly in surprise but otherwise still showing no emotion.

Shuichi waited in shaken silence for what seemed like an appropriate length, watching Yuki read and reread the note as if he couldn't believe the words that were written across it, before he decided it was time to leave Yuki alone and began to trudge away with a heavy atmosphere hovering around him.  Before he could take more than a step, however, a strong hand gripped his shirt collar and pulled him backwards, past Tohma, past the doorframe, past Yuki himself and into the house.  He heard the door slam shut and felt himself being dragged into the living room and thrown onto the couch.  His eyes lingered on the hardwood floor, glazed with the strange silver sheen, as he decided he was still unable to look up at Yuki.  He could see Yuki's form standing still in his peripheral vision, though he could tell just by the heavy, anxious atmosphere that Yuki was plague with the same awkwardness as him.  Thoughts were racing through his mind so fast that it seemed empty, and he desperately tried to hold onto a thought long enough to process it.  Briefly his mind clicked back onto Tohma for some unknown reason, and Shuichi realized that he was currently absent, after most likely having a door slammed in his face.  Of course, Tohma had probably been expecting that, seeing as though everyone who dealt with Yuki seemed to experience that at least once.

"Shuichi…you…"

Shuichi's mind snapped back to the present so quickly that he felt faint for a second, but he allowed his eyes to wander up from their place on the shining hardwood floor to Yuki's pained face that now looked a few shades paler than Shuichi had ever seen it.  The golden eyes seemed to be barely managing to keep eye contact with him; they had a fragile look to them.  Shuichi studied Yuki, noting every little detail about him; he looked like he should have been lying in a casket somewhere.  

But, somehow, Yuki looked as beautiful as Shuichi remembered.  Shuichi knew that he was so close to getting Yuki back, and he felt no reluctance to do so.  He wanted Yuki more than ever before.

"I'm sorry, Yuki," Shuichi whispered, finally breaking the eye contact and lowering his gaze to his hands folded in his lap.  "I understand that you wanted to leave me…  And I tried to respect your wish, I tried really hard."  Tears began to spill from his eyes, but he did not move to wipe them from his cheeks.  "But I can't, Yuki.  I'm sorry, but I can't.  Because I love you too much for that."  His voice caught in a painful gasp, and at last his straight, stiff posture crumbled as he fell forward and buried his face in his hands.  He felt like in idiot, crying in front of the deadly silent Yuki, and he wondered what Yuki thought of him now, or what expression he had on his face, but Shuichi didn't dare lift his head.  It was embarrassing enough for Yuki to be able to hear him sniveling and gasping, so he didn't want Yuki to see whatever condition his face was in.

It was a vain wish, though, because as soon as he felt the gentle touch on his shoulder, his eyes darted out from their hiding spot and were immediately caught by the golden gaze that was now only inches away from him.  The yellow eyes held a pleading look, asking him for something.  It was the same look that Yuki had been wearing at the concert; Shuichi recognized it immediately.  It was a look Shuichi had never seen before Yuki had disappeared, and suddenly Shuichi realized why.  It was asking him something, and although he hadn't had the will to find out what it was before at the concert, Shuichi knew it was something important.  He was asking of Shuichi what Shuichi had been asking of him the whole time.  

"I'm sorry," the words escaped from his mouth in a soft whisper, barely audible and echoing in Shuichi's ears.  "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…Shuichi…  Please…"  

Tears were visible in his eyes, reflecting the overhead lights like a mirror so that the gold was hidden beneath them.  Shuichi's mouth pulled itself into a frown as he blinked back his own tears and unconsciously ran his hand across Yuki's cheek, reflexively causing the golden eyes to close and the first of the tears to trail down his face.

They both had wanted the same thing, they both had asked the same thing, so why hadn't either of them realized it before?  The answer had been right there in front of them, so obvious that they had both missed it entirely.

"I love you."

Shuichi stared at Yuki with a penetrating gaze, his eyes strong but gentle at the same time.  It was over now, he knew.  It had finally come to a close.  They had both seen it, they had both asked their questions and gotten their answers.  There was no need for his next words, and yet they spilled out almost as if it were some sort of practiced formality that he had become so used to he didn't even think about its meaning anymore.

"That's the first time you've ever said that to me."  It was a pointless statement, and yet a smile touched his lips as he said it.  Perhaps it was a smile of victory, he reasoned, or relief.  A similar smiled graced Yuki's features as well, mirroring Shuichi's expression almost exactly.

The dialogue died there, but it was a trivial matter; words were no longer needed.  The two remained there, each looking into a mirror and finally seeing past the reflection.

========

Notes:  Short chapter that took me nearly twice as long as usual to post.  I know, I'm sorry.  It's not quite over yet; there's still an epilogue next.  But yeah, this story is so screwed up, it's a little hard to write sometimes.

Thanks to all those who reviewed so far!

And, for anon:  The Japanese learning program I have is called "Eurotalk: Talk Now Japanese."  However, I really don't recommend that because it only teaches you phrases and vocabulary and does nothing to help you understand the sentence structure.  To learn Japanese, if you can't find an actual teacher, you could go to a bookstore and find a textbook called "Japanese for Busy People."  That's a pretty good and cheap one (I got mine for about $25), if you have the patience to read through it and teach yourself.

Until next time,

Cassi


	8. I Love You

Notes:  Uh, by the way, Gravitation doesn't belong to me…  eh-heh… Je Suis Désolé 

**Epilogue**

Shuichi sighed deeply, leaning heavily against the back of his chair and sucking on the eraser of a half-chewed pencil.  He was supposed to be writing lyrics, he knew, to at least make up for the weeks he had off in forced vacation.  It wouldn't have been so bad, considering he had only taken off about a week when Seguchi had suspended him, but things had actually come to a halt when Seguchi had decided to fly back to Japan without him and Yuki had practically convinced him that his books weren't selling and he couldn't afford to purchase a plane ticket for him.  Of course, this so-called poverty hadn't prevented Yuki from taking him out to expensive dinners and buying him nice gifts (though none of which consisted of a plane ticket).  Only later did he learn that Yuki was actually just as, if not more, popular as in Japan, but Shuichi hardly complained.  He rather enjoyed Yuki's sudden caring nature, and he wasn't sure if it would last, so he figured he might as well savor it while he had it.  That, however, didn't change the fact that he was behind in his work, and now that Yuki had finally relented and returned him to Japan, he had a lot to do to catch up.  

But Shuichi couldn't work.  It was too damned hot to do anything; not only was it the middle of summer, but he had also heard some news about there being a drought, or something.  Not that that made much sense, since when Shuichi looked out the window, all the plants were blooming with green, but nothing else made sense either.  For example, he was thirstier than he had ever been in his entire life, which was strange since one would think he would rather be thirsty after singing for hours on end, but no, not today.  Today the sun was burning hotter than ever, and Shuichi hoped that he would just melt soon so that perhaps he could drink himself.  But that didn't make much sense either.  What was worse was that the floor around his desk, where he currently sat in his attempt to get some work done, was littered with countless water bottles, all of which were so inconveniently empty.  Of course, even if they weren't empty, Shuichi doubted he would have drunk from them anyway, considering that they had been there on the floor since last time he had cleaned, and he couldn't even remember when that was; not that water really ever went bad, mind you; it was just that there were very weird bacteria out there that perhaps could manage to get into sealed plastics.  Besides, once a long time ago Shuichi had heard that the plastic of water bottles broke down into the water and caused cancer.

But who ever heard of that, plastic-induced cancer?  He decided maybe he was just a little paranoid.

And hot too.  How he wanted to creep into the dark study that was only a few steps down the hallway and make sweaty, passionate love to the one who practically resided in there.  Not that that would resolve his problem of being too hot, but at least it would make it bearable, if not enjoyable.

That was beside the point though.  The point was that Shuichi could not bring himself to write lyrics.  He was, as ever, too distracted.  Hiro had once said that he had ADD, and only later did Shuichi figure out what that stood for.  Apparently it was an acronym for a medical condition, and although Shuichi couldn't remember the exact words, he at least knew that the A stood for attention and one of the D's stood for disorder, and that was all he really needed to know.  Anyway, he had decided that he in fact didn't have ADD, because his attention didn't waver, but instead just focused on one thing, which never was what he was supposed to be paying attention to because that one thing invariably happened to be Yuki Eiri.

And that was precisely what he was doing at this point in time, instead of concentrating on writing lyrics.  But he couldn't help it, really, and besides, he reasoned that he deserved more time than he had been allowed to dote over his newly reacquainted lover.  That old saying had been right after all, that distance made relationships stronger.  In fact, Shuichi was so enjoying himself that he sometimes thought that he might take time off from Yuki more often, if it got Yuki to act like a normal, functional person; though, upon those thoughts Shuichi usually managed to reason that the whole breaking down in depression thing certainly wasn't worth it.  After all, he'd be satisfied if Yuki just stayed as he was acting now forever; it was actually more than he had ever hoped for.

Considering such, Shuichi couldn't figure out why he didn't just creep into the study and attempt at making love like he had just been thinking about moments beforehand.  After all, the only way that Shuichi could fail to get what he wanted would be if Yuki suddenly reverted back to his old self, which at that time seemed highly unlikely.  Perhaps it was an old habit that Shuichi had developed of trying to bother his lover as little as possible, or maybe it was a fear that Yuki would in fact return to his old self and be mean.  Whatever the reason, though, it succeeded in preventing Shuichi from doing such, and because of that, Shuichi found himself in a thickly hot, inescapable boredom in which his laziness was even preventing him from going to the kitchen for a simple glass of water.

Still, it was something that had to be dealt with, and taking a determined initiative, Shuichi resolutely picked up the phone and began to dial Hiro's number.  After all, what better to do when one is bored than talk with one's best friend?  However, Shuichi's resolve quickly faded about halfway through dialing when he decided that maybe that wasn't the best idea in the world, since he had been given today off specifically to write new lyrics, and if he were to call Hiro, he knew Hiro would chastise him for wasting time.

Though, there was someone who he did need to talk to, but he had been dreading the moment of confrontation ever since he had resolved his problems with Yuki.  But he couldn't say it over the phone; it had to be in person, and yet, Shuichi had the strange notion that it had to be done right at that moment.  In fact, the feeling was so strong that he slammed the phone, which still displayed half of Hiro's number on it's digital screen, down onto the receiver and stood up with a determined air hovering about him.

After organizing his few blank sheets of paper on the desk, Shuichi marched towards the door and slipped on his shoes.  He paused briefly to call out, "I'm leaving now.  Be back soon," but did not wait for a response before hurrying out of the door.

The trip to NG Studios was quicker than usual, it seemed, especially considering that Shuichi couldn't even remember more than half of it, being so distracted by his thoughts.  He entered the clear glass doors quickly and moved up the building to his studio.  He wasn't even sure that his target was even located at his current destination, but he decided that the studio was the best place to start.

Before he could make it completely to the soundproof door, however, his pursuit was marred when he crashed into something very hard and tall that collapsed to the floor along with him.  Shuichi sat up on his knees, perching in a somewhat uncomfortable stance, as he looked down with wide eyes at what he had just collided into; to his surprise, and partially to his dismay as well, he found it to be the very person he had been searching for.

"Fujisaki-kun," Shuichi breathed, gaping at the younger boy as the latter pushed himself to his feet and patted the non-existent dust from his clothing.

"Clumsy as ever, I see, Shindou-san," Suguru replied in his usual cool tone.  "And what are you doing back here anyway?  Did you finish the lyrics?"

"No," Shuichi muttered guiltily as he too rose to his feet.

"Then why are you here?" Suguru repeated.

"I needed to see you," Shuichi answered, forcing himself not to smile when he noticed Suguru's face darkened considerably to a deep shade of crimson at his response.

"Me?" Suguru asked, his voice quite a bit weaker than it had been before.

"Yeah, you see…" Shuichi said, his voice practically dying completely before he managed to revive it once more.  "I-I needed to thank you, for what you did for me before…"  Shuichi knew his face had probably turned even redder than Suguru's, but he decided that the current situation was embarrassing enough that he didn't need to worry about just a little extra thing like that.

"What do you mean?" Suguru asked.  "I didn't do anything."

"Yes, you did!" Shuichi reassured, glaring strongly at Suguru.  "What you said…  Without you, I don't think things would have ever worked out for me."

"But I didn't say anything," Suguru insisted politely, breaking eye contact and making it obvious that Shuichi's glare was making him uncomfortable, but Shuichi didn't move to change it.

A grin crept onto Shuichi's features, something that looked mischievous and cynical at the same time.  "You said enough, and for that, I just wanted to thank you.  I needed to."  A short, stiff pause followed.  "So, thank you."

With that he turned and began making his way towards the exit, though Suguru's renewed voice summoned him back.

"Shindou-san," he said, his frown being replaced by a grin similar to Shuichi's, "you're welcome.  After all, what are friends for?"

Shuichi knew that Suguru thought himself going out on a limb to call them friends, but it wasn't necessary anyway.  Shuichi acknowledged it as the truth, because they weren't just band mates anymore.  To be great, they had to be more than that.

Shuichi donned an accepting smile and turned again, proceeding down the hallway and leaving with a light, energetic feeling of satisfaction.  As he exited the tall, spotless, attractive building and danced his way down the sidewalk towards the apartment where his lover awaited, he knew that everything had fallen back into place and fit more snugly than before.  Things would never be the same as they were, but that didn't mean that they couldn't be better.

========

After an hour of sitting in an inhumanly still silence, staring at a blank piece of paper and the pencil that was so chewed up that it hardly retained any of its original yellow paint as his mind inadvertently settled on Yuki again and again without fail, Shuichi decided to give up on writing the lyrics.  Besides, it was late and he knew for a fact that Yuki was still locked up in that dark study of his, probably planning to stress himself out by pulling an all-nighter.  Because worry about his lover's health made his inattention to his lyrics so strong, Shuichi decided there was no use in even bothering to try anymore.  He figured he would be more useful if he made sure his lover got to bed on time.

Standing up with a mischievous giggle, Shuichi began tiptoeing silently towards the study with the idea of surprising Yuki; however, when he reached the study and opened the door painfully slowly so as not to make even a squeak, he found himself somewhat surprised to see the study completely empty, and the laptop removed from its usual place on the desk.  Shuichi stared at it wide-eyed for what seemed like forever, unwilling to move other than the pounding heartbeat the made his body shake.  Yuki rarely ever removed his laptop from the desk.

Shuichi softly closed the door again as he desperately tried to put a halt to his racing thoughts because all of them were lies and worries, but not a single one of them was true.  They couldn't be true.

"Yu—" Shuichi started, though his voice caught in his throat, and he managed to successfully suppress a gasp before trying again.  "Yuki?  Are you here?  Yuki?"  Despite that he was calling it, his voice was tight, making it somewhat quiet.  He felt as though he was in some sort of slasher movie, and after just hearing a strange noise, was calling out cautiously to make sure it was someone he knew.  It was practically the same thing, he reasoned, because he knew he would die if the thoughts inside his head right now proved to be true.

He stood in the hallway, shaking slightly, until the tremors took hold of his body and he collapsed to the floor, sobbing loudly.  He couldn't have known how long he had sat there, allowing the closed door of the study to support his full weight, weeping and wondering how long it would take before he ran out of tears.  He didn't even bother to bring his hands up to wipe his eyes, but instead closed them and allowed the salty tears to stain his cheeks and pollute his mouth with their bitter taste.  He was thinking that it was the end of all things good and beautiful, when suddenly his thoughts came to a halt as a strong hand gripped his shoulders.

"Shuichi, what's wrong?" asked the voice, flooded with worry.  Shuichi's breath stopped in his lungs and he blinked his eyes open, his vision taking a few moments to clear and focus on the handsome face in front of him.

"Yuki?" Shuichi asked, sniffing loudly and finally bringing his hand up to wipe away the wetness on his cheeks.  "Where were you?  I thought, I thought that, that, that—"

"That I left you again?" Yuki finished, his voice a little more irritated than before.  "I told you I was going out to get my laptop fixed.  Remember?"

Shuichi sniffed again, thinking back to the time earlier that afternoon when Yuki had indeed come into the room where he sat, desperately trying to write lyrics, and telling him something, but Shuichi could also remember having not listened to Yuki, as he was so surprised by the novelist's sudden appearance in his daze of boredom.  Shuichi smiled sheepishly, gaining him an irritated sigh from his lover.

"Idiot," Yuki muttered, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a thin white cigarette.  He gently placed it in between his lips but didn't continue to take out his lighter and instead fell from his knees to join Shuichi completely on the floor.  He scooted to the door and, placing a strong arm around Shuichi's shoulders, removed the cigarette from his mouth again before pulling Shuichi closer to him and leaning in so that his mouth was resting on inches away from Shuichi's cheek.  "I promise, Shuichi," he whispered, his breath fast and tight.  "I won't abandon you ever again.  I promise."

Shuichi frowned, unwilling to look at his lover despite the blissful effect that his last statement had on him.  "I shouldn't have doubted you, Yuki.  I'm sorry."

"Shut up," Yuki muttered.  "Don't say that because you're not the one who should be apologizing."  A silent pause followed, broken when Yuki leaned the rest of the way over and, pulling Shuichi's head to face him, placed and tender kiss on his lips.  "I'm sorry, Shuichi."

"Yuki!" Shuichi squealed, an impossibly large grin spreading across his face.  He giggled happily like a child and crawled forward onto Yuki's lap, running his fingers through the thick blond hair the cascaded down from his lover's head in sheets of glistening yellow.  "I'll always forgive you, Yuki, for anything that you do because I love you more than I can describe.  And besides, now everything is how I've always wanted it because now I know that you love me as much as I love you."

Shuichi watched as a thin smile crept up onto Yuki's face, a thankful smile that reached deep inside of him.  Shuichi knew the smile had more meaning than it looked; he knew precisely what it meant, thanking him for what he had just said, for his love, and for understanding the things Yuki could not bring himself to ever say.

And Shuichi knew that the words, "I love you," were only a beginning.

========

The end.

Cassiopeia.


End file.
